Haunted
by Child of Loki
Summary: Elizabeth is haunted by John's memory. But is it just a contrivance of her dreams that he's not really dead? Or is it much more?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's Note: I've been playing with what seems like dozens of fics since I started watching this program just a few months ago. This one doesn't seem as in character as would probably be desirable, but I'm not sure I would be able to capture their brilliance. Anyway, I'm toying with ways that this can be a longer fic, but it may have to settle as standing on its own.**

**(PS. I don't think it's of particular significance in this short piece, but if further chapters are added, you may realize that my knowledge is limited by the fact that I am only familiar with the first season).**

**Haunted**

The loud penetrating beeping of her alarm clock jolted her into the waking world. She moved her hand instinctively to turn it off. In the few seconds it took her to silence the device, reality came rushing back to her with a vengeance. She felt the despair fill her heart and the tears begin to flow. She rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow, not bothering to stem the sobs, only stifling them. She had been greeting the day in this manner for several months now.

It was all because of the dreams. If she didn't have the dreams, perhaps she wouldn't greet everyday with tears. And at the same time, she did not want them to stop. She needed them to continue. If they didn't, she might begin to forget, forget him. And that was frightening. But nevertheless, they were the reason for her overwhelming sense of despair. Every night she dreamed of him. Oddly, she never dreamed of losing him. She only dreamed of him being there, being alive. The reality of the day, which engulfed her like an avalanche every single morning, was the devastating part. The reality was that he wasn't there. He was dead.

Dead and gone.

And Dr. Elizabeth Weir had other things to worry about. There were other people, _living _people, she was responsible for. And that was why she forced herself to get up out of bed, despite how heavy her body felt, despite how hard it was to continue breathing. At first a shower had served well enough to wash away the misery, but lately it did nothing to lift the weight she felt bearing down upon her soul. She shouldn't miss him this much. Others had lost their lives here, so many others. None of them deserved to die. They were all good people. So why did their deaths fail to cause her such pain, to feel such loss, such a hole in her heart?

John Sheppard had just been a man.

A good man? Yes. Her friend? She'd like to think so. But he was not _her_ man. She had no right to mourn him so. She had no right to dream of him. She had no right to cry over him every morning for months after his death. She was not worthy of being so melodramatic at his expense. She had to get past this. Others relied on her. The John Sheppard she knew would not have wanted her to fail others on account of him, especially when he was no longer around to tell her to suck it up and get over it.

The shower didn't seem to help at all this morning.

Elizabeth struggled to remember exactly what the dream was about as she dressed. She never could seem to grasp the details. They were always at the edge of her mind. She knew her dreams were vivid, but as soon as she woke, they vanished, leaving only misery and despair to fill the void. She could always remember that John had been there, alive and well, giving her that smirk of his. The memory of his smiling faced lifted her spirit for moment, but only for a moment before it was replaced by the knowledge that she'd never see it again.

"Stop it Elizabeth!" she hissed at her image in the mirror. "You have work to do. There are people who rely on you. Stop doing this!"

She had to look away, unable to face her own sad eyes staring back at her. She took a deep breath before leaving her room, praying for the strength to survive the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: I wrestled with posting this section for awhile. I'm not sure where this story is going. I have an idea, but I'm not sure how to get there. Also, there were parts where I wasn't sure my third-person omniscient narrative is appropriate. The debate over its usage and the style of the story still rage on within my pathetic mind, the only place where it would matter. Anyway, perhaps someone will get some enjoyment out of reading this…**

It was a beautiful place. The sun was shining and its warmth lifted her soul. There were flowers all around her. She was standing in a field on the edge of a glorious ancient forest. It beckoned to her and she was drawn towards it. There was perhaps something ominous about it, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. So she continued heading towards it without hesitation.

She heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks, amongst the knee-high vibrant flora. Someone was calling her name.

"Elizabeth."

It was familiar, deep and coaxing. And there was that hint of flirtatiousness that she would never fail to recognize, never forget. She turned around to face the handsome figure of John Sheppard. She smiled at him as he repeated her name and moved to embrace her.

"Elizabeth," he said, his voice edged with a graveness she hadn't noticed before. He held her firmly by the arms. "Focus on what I'm going to say. It's important Elizabeth."

She squirmed under his grip. This was making her uncomfortable. She only wanted to go for a walk through the mystical forest.

"John," she whined, finding that she could not free herself from him. "Let me go. I just want to go for a walk through the forest."

"Elizabeth, please," he tried again, maintaining his even tone despite the frustration apparent on his face. "You have to try and focus."

She only smiled at him. "We can go for a walk together."

"This is a dream!" he shook her, no longer able to control himself. He had tried a hundred times. And each time, it failed. This was turning into his own personal hell. She looked at him with big frightened eyes. Then he saw it. He could have kissed her! He let go of her arms instead. "Yes!"

She didn't seem certain of the revelation. She gave him a critical look.

"Yes!" he said, excitement lighting his features. "Give me the patented critical Weir stare. Think!"

"I don't understand," she said, still confused. "I'm asleep. This is a dream."

"Sure. Haven't you ever realized you were dreaming before?" he asked. "I know you have. I've tried this before. Almost every night, in fact."

"Wait," she said holding her hand up in classic Dr. Weir fashion, while she thought things through. "I'm asleep. This is a dream. Then, who are you? You must just be a figment of my subconscious…"

Sadness swept over her.

"…because John Sheppard is dead."

"No!" he asserted. "Well, yes. You think I'm dead. But I'm not, Elizabeth. That's why I'm here. I've been trying to tell you for…I don't even know how long!"

"What? You died! I remember that. That's reality. This is just some dream. My mind playing tricks on me."

"No! How did I 'die'? Do you remember? Was there a body?"

"No," she conceded.

"Exactly!"

"But Rodney and the others," she protested, still skeptical. "They saw you…you were vaporized."

"But I wasn't!" he argued. He didn't know what happened to someone after they died, but he was pretty damn sure this wasn't it. "The device just un-phased me or something."

"'_Un-phased'_ you?" this was too weird. She definitely believed that she was dreaming.

"Ask Rodney," he insisted. "I don't know how this stuff works. But if anyone does, it'd be him. Please, Elizabeth. Tell Rodney."

He managed to muster the pouting look she could never seem to resist, despite the obvious anxiety that colored his features. And she couldn't resist the look now, even though she knew this was a dream. She conceded, nodding her head in concession.

"I'll try to convince Rodney," she said. "But you know how skeptical he can be."

"Convincing Rodney will be the easy part," John informed her. "Remembering is the hard part."

"What do you mean?" she asked. He sighed heavily.

"You don't remember do you?" he probed, already aware of the answer. "You never do. We've had this conversation at least twenty times. You never seem to be able to remember when you wake up."

"Oh god, John. I'm sorry," she genuinely felt bad, empathizing with the frustration he must have been feeling. She couldn't believe that even her patience would last if she was in his situation. "But what can I do about it?"

"I don't know," he seemed to reflect upon it for a moment. "Do you always wake up to an alarm?"

"Yes. But what does that have-"

"Maybe, if you tried to wake up before it went off, more slowly, on your own, you could remember."

"I don't know," she said slowly, hesitantly. "But I can try."

He smiled that typical smile of his, the one that made him look like a little boy who knew he was getting away with something. She had always thought it was his most charming feature.

"Elizabeth, you never just 'try,' " he said, finally looking as if he were ate ease. "When you set your mind to something, you do it. Please, this time, set your mind to it."

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Elizabeth woke up. She looked around her dark room. It was still night. Why was she awake? What had woken her? There was something, something important, something that she must have dreamed. She sat bolt upright in her bed.

"John!"

She had to help him. She had to find Rodney and tell him that John was alive! He was alive and he needed their help. She jumped out of bed and scrambled for clothes. She found the things that she had exhaustively dropped on the floor before climbing into bed, promising to herself that she would take care of them in the morning. As she dressed herself, her pace slowed and the urgency gradually dispelled.

The certainty of her mindset faded with the residual effects of sleep. It couldn't have been real. It was all just her dream, an elaborate and convincing one, but a dream nonetheless. John was dead and she needed to accept that. _Why couldn't she accept that?_

She scolded herself horribly as she removed the clothing she had so hastily put on not a few minutes before. She needed to get through this. She needed to let him go. But why was it so difficult? Why was it so painful?

The knot that had begun to set up permanent residence in her throat appeared again, as it seemed to do with every waking moment. She fought it and the tears that accompanied it. She also fought the urge to scream at herself. The screaming had failed to snap her out of it when she had succumbed to the urge on pervious occasions, and the anger that accompanied it only had seemed to make it worse.

Elizabeth tried to shake the misery off. She thought of the work she had to do tomorrow, which teams were off-world, which science experiments were nearing completion, the number of reports she had to read and fill out. And the distraction worked, fooling her mind and body into relaxing. She seemed to breathe easier as she returned to bed. She only had a few hours to sleep until she had to face another tortuous day, another of what felt like would be an eternity of days without him.

**A/N: If anyone has suggestions as to my afore mentioned dilemma, they would be much appreciated. Of course, I didn't tell you really why I'm having issues because that would ruin the plot. But if you really want to know/help, please let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Umm…yeah. Had this kind of written for awhile. Actually, I have a lot of different random bits of this story written. It's just filling in the gaps so that it works that is the difficult part. Anyway, I promise that other characters will pop up soon. I know so far the story seems a little redundant and repetitive…apologies for that. Things should be mixed up next section…I hope you enjoy this one though!**

Elizabeth leaned her elbows on the desk and put her face in her hands. It wasn't the ache throbbing away in her head that bothered her. It was the pain deep down inside that made her feel like giving up. Well, it wasn't so much a pain as it was an absence of emotion. She couldn't call it hollow because it felt heavy, like a weight was pressing down upon her chest all the time, like she was deep below the ocean with all the water pressing in around her, or high up in the mountains where the air was thin and she was struggling to breath. And it was a struggle.

The whole day had been a struggle. She had resisted the urge to stand up in the briefings and shout "What's the point?" She had found herself zoning out more so than usual while the scientists consulted her on various matters. She had wanted to strangle almost every person she had run into during the day. And she didn't know where the violence and frustration came from, just that it was there deep down inside her, accompanying the weight that plagued her soul. She could only hope no one had recognized that something wasn't right with her.

All day, Elizabeth had fought to stave off tears she had felt threatening, and now she found that they would not come. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered. She let her body slouch and her muscles go slack until her head and arms were resting directly on the desk. It felt cold and hard, but at least it felt like something. She focused on the cold hard surface and her breathing, trying to clear her head, trying to purge the leaden feelings from within her. Instead, her eyelids grew heavy and she soon was fast asleep at her desk.

----------------------------------------------------

She laughed. It was an amazing sound. He had so rarely heard it when he had been 'alive.'

"No, really. That one looks like Rodney after I touch something lying around in his lab," John reiterated, still pointing up at the cloud slowly making its way across the unnaturally blue sky. Elizabeth continued to laugh, and finding herself unable to speak, slapped John Sheppard on the arm.

Finally, the laughing fit died down and they both just lay there silently, pondering the cartoonish clouds while immersed in the field full of vibrant flowers. This was fun. This was what pure joy felt like. Elizabeth reached up, marveling at the awkward feeling of her fingers as the blood flowed out of them into her arm. She moved her hand gently back and forth, enjoying the strange perspective like she was a child new to the world.

A warm gentle breeze blew through the field, stirring the tall grass and flowers. The movement caught her eye, and she mindlessly ran her fingers through the blades of grass. They were as soft as rabbit fur. Her fingers caught upon something thicker; a stem. She picked the flower, and laughing turned to tickle John's nose with it.

As she held it threateningly over his face, something made her hesitate. She studied its shape. It was familiar. It sparked a memory in her, a memory of a drawing she had seen before. She had been touring a refugee camp on Earth, and as the entourage was passing through the makeshift village, a single flare of color had caught her eye. Stopping, she had found its source to be a flower, well, a drawing of a flower, a representation made from some pigment unknown to her, its four bright red petals standing in stark contrast to the muddied cardboard that served as a wall. And amongst all that despair and misery, she had found her spirit lifted and renewed. Children were children everywhere, full of hope and potential, and joy.

Dr. Elizabeth Weir returned her attention to the flower, but it was gone from her fingers that had so playfully and ignorantly plucked it. The flower was gone, the feeling of pure joy vanished with the memory, but it had left her with something far greater, her self identity. She remembered who she was, but why was she here? Where was here?

"What's wrong?" John asked, studying her inquisitively from where he lay beside her in the tall grass.

"I remember," she replied. She had almost forgotten he was there with her. But how could she have? She now remembered who he was, and that charming smile meant so much more when he was John Sheppard, military commander of Atlantis and flyboy than when he was John, guy who was cloud watching with her in a field full of wild flowers.

"Really?" he seemed surprised, excited even. "You've never realized on your own before!"

"Realized what?" she asked, slightly confused. The light of excitement faded from his features a little as he opened his mouth to explain. Elizabeth cut him off, her memories of the dreams returning and settling amongst her recently rediscovered self-identity. "…realized that this is all a dream…"

"Yes, Elizabeth!" He jumped to his feet pulling her up with him in his excitement.

She frowned. "You're dead."

"Yes!" She was taken aback by his enthusiasm over the revelation of his own demise, but somehow it encouraged her recollections.

"No, not dead… '_unphased._' "

"That's right. Keep going!" He was looking at her with such anticipation that she couldn't make eye contact for fear of disappointing him with her not-so-certain ability to recall the past in a dream state.

"And you wanted me to remember and tell Rodney when I woke up…but…" She trailed off as the memory of her failure came flooding back. "I just brushed it off as a silly dream. I'm sorry, John."

She let herself plop down in the tall grass. It felt colder and sharper than earlier. She felt that she deserved the stings she received as the blades of grass lashed at her bare cheek under the force of the once warm, now frigid wind. She had failed him. It was one of her biggest fears, failing the people who depended upon her.

"What for?" John asked as he sat down beside her. "You finally remembered on your own. I've always had to remind you before."

"Thanks for the sentiment, but it's not the remembering while I'm asleep that's going to help you," she replied still beating herself up while simultaneously straining to think of a way to take it all seriously when she woke up. A different sort of thought occurred to her. "Why _didn't_ you try to remind me?"

He shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with a blade of grass.

"John?"

"I get tired. I try and try and _try _to contact someone, to get them to believe me. And then when they don't, I _try_ some more." His sad demeanor turned towards his lighter, more typical amused disposition, the one she always knew he used to cover and divert others from his real feelings. Perhaps, he used it as a safety mechanism; dwelling on things out of one's control was never good for one's psyche. "A guy needs a break every once in a while."

"So you use my subconscious as a playground?" It was meant to be a jibe, a joke, but she suddenly realized how violated it made her feel and how embarrassed John looked about it. Sympathetic to the frustration he felt by being trapped in a situation so out of his control, she decided to change the subject. "You've tried to contact others."

He nodded his head, still sobered by his guilt. He had never thought about the effects his popping in and out of Elizabeth's dreams would have on her. He had just wanted someone to help him. He just wanted things to be normal again.

"Who, exactly, have you tried to contact?"

"Rodney, Ford, Teyla, Beckett, Zelenka…you name it," he answered. "I think I've tried to contact everyone in the city at least once." He smiled at her, a sad sort of gesture. "I've only ever been able to convince _you_ that I'm alive. So I've been trying to get you to remember for a very long time."

Elizabeth didn't respond. Anything she could say, she was sure that she had probably said to him before. How many times had she promised him that she'd get help only to forget with the rising of the sun or the sounding of her alarm? How many times could she offer condolences, sympathy for his horrid situation?

"Should I try to wake up now?" Elizabeth questioned. She wasn't exactly sure of her memories, but she vaguely recalled that she had tried to wake and remember before but had failed to actually provide any assistance to John. "Will I remember?"

"I don't know," John replied quietly. She could see the doubt in his eyes. But there was something else. She could tell that he didn't want her to try to wake up yet. He didn't want to be alone again. Even for how changed he seemed from before he 'died,' he still seemed incapable of voicing such an emotion he deemed superfluous. How could she spare him from having to ask?

"Maybe I could remember better if I knew everything," she suggested. "Could you tell me exactly what happened, from your perspective?"

A look of grateful relief lighted John's face. He began to tell Elizabeth the story of how he died...

**A/N: How is the flow? Does it seem too much like the other chapters as to be boring? Would you like more?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's Note: Okay. So here's the next section, and some other characters finally make an appearance…not that I could ever get sick of John and Elizabeth. Although, I hope this serves to break up the monotony of Elizabeth's wallowing in misery and the bizarre dream sequences of frustration.**

She sat bolt upright in bed, and sucked in a breath of air so sharply that everyone in the infirmary was startled. Rodney jumped back a few feet from the infirmary bed, his eyes growing large with shock and fear. The image of Elizabeth waking up had been so precisely horror flick that when she spoke he had half expected her voice to be low and raspy, as if she were possessed by some demon foretelling their doom. Instead, she spoke only one word in her normal tone and volume of voice. It wasn't all that loud, but it cut through the now silent air like a knife, and all present there heard it, and some stared while others turned away unable to bear the weight the word possessed.

And Rodney feared that it would be his burden to approach the bewildered woman whom he had been watching over, to correct her mistake, make her take back the word uttered from her lips, so laden with emotion. The scientist breathed a rather conspicuous sigh of relief upon noticing the approaching doctor. He had escaped reliving what was one of the more painfully sad moments of his life, if not the most heart-wrenching he had ever experienced. Why had he been the one to tell Elizabeth of his friend's demise? He would have rather suffered a thousand deaths at Wraith hands than see the look in her eyes after he told her that John was dead. He could've sworn that he had watched two people die that day.

"Good Afternoon, Dr. Weir," greeted Dr. Beckett in what Rodney would have been able to tell was a forced geniality, had he been able to remove his eyes from the expedition leader's disturbing form. Her hair was a mess from lying in an incomprehensibly deep sleep for days, in which her skin had grown pale, sallow even. And ironically, there were dark circles under eyes, making her look exhausted for the long sleep, not refreshed by it in the least. And her eyes themselves were the most disturbing, with their flat color and distant look. It wasn't even a thoughtful distant look. Her eyes looked empty and cold. It hurt the two men who stood by Elizabeth's side to look upon her. Rodney swallowed hard. He had thought her to look tortured during her sleep, but this waking moment of hers made the coma look downright peaceful.

"How are ye feeling?" the doctor tried again, unwilling to give up on the pretense that the patient wasn't currently creeping him out beyond reason. "Elizabeth?"

The mention of her name seemed to work like a switch, turning on something, everything in her mind. Her eyes regained some of the light they associated with Dr. Weir. Rodney recognized the intelligence return to her eyes, but there was still a hint of sadness within their depths. There always seemed to be that sadness about her, ever since… and it would probably always be there. He could only pray that the melancholy visible in her eyes would not expand and consume her from the inside.

"Mmm…" Elizabeth murmured quietly, shaking her head, trying to completely regain her consciousness. She obviously was in the infirmary, so she asked the next obvious question. "What happened?"

"Rodney here…" Carson said indicating the still unnerved man standing on the other side of the infirmary bed. "…found you asleep in your office and became a might concerned when he couldn't wake ye. That was four days ago."

Elizabeth looked concerned, but not as much as she looked confused, her eyebrows knitting across her forehead as she attempted to come to terms with what had occurred. "Do you know what caused it?"

"Uh..." Carson glanced at Rodney who gave the doctor a blank look and a small shrug. Then he turned back to Elizabeth. "No…not as such. Sorry, lass."

Something seemed to be dawning on Elizabeth, a look of concentration wiping away the confusion on her strained but still attractive features. "I remember sitting down to do paperwork at my desk. I had a fairly bad headache. I was having a bad day…"

"Sounds like every day around here," Rodney muttered under his breathe. The doctor gave him an annoyed glare, but Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. Or if she did, she paid it no heed and continued on her synaptic path of discovery.

"I remember being tired. I must have fallen asleep," she said, not to the two men watching her intently as much as to herself.

"Then you woke up here," Dr. McKay supplied, now at ease enough to allow sarcasm back into his demeanor. "Wow. That's not too particularly helpful, Elizabeth."

"Rodney!" Carson scolded, seriously rethinking allowing the acerbic scientist to hold watch over the leader while she lay unconscious in the infirmary. "It's not her fault she slipped into a coma."

"No, of course it isn't," McKay responded, but apparently not to the Scot's liking.

"And I don't remember you offering up any solutions," the doctor shot back, matching the scientist's sardonic manner. Pointing out Rodney's flaws and failures always served to silence the arrogant man, and succeeded this time as well.

Elizabeth winced. It wasn't meant to be a wince, but in her current state, she couldn't quite pull off a smile or even a smirk. And all she could think about was how some things would always remain the same, despite how significantly things had changed since John's death.

_JOHN!_

"It was him!" Elizabeth said, her face truly lighting up for the first time in months. She scrambled out of bed, yanked the heart monitor from her chest, and gritting her teeth, pulled the IV out of her hand. Carson didn't have a fast enough reaction time to stop her. If it had been someone else, he might have anticipated such a maneuver, but he had never expected such an escape stunt from Dr. Weir. She was supposed to be the responsible one. He was only able to watch in shocked awe as she grabbed Rodney's arm and pulled him out of the infirmary, dragging the dumbstruck scientist with her on some exigent mission unbeknownst to anyone but herself.

**A/N: I also had this part mostly written, so I don't know when the next section will be completed, but I'll try my best to make it quick. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Sorry to those of you actually following this story for taking so long. For some odd reason, this story has begun to take a more light-hearted, even humorous turn. I think that it will remain light for a few more chapters before turning somewhat darker, like in the first few chapters, again. Anyway…enjoy…if you can…**

They arrived at one of the many science labs in Atlantis, Elizabeth shoving and pulling Rodney all the way there. She finally released his arm once they were inside. He had never thought of her as a pushy person before. Even when she became impatient with his brilliance, she would urge him to the point in a strict but polite manner. It would often serve to annoy him when she cut him off mid-explanation, but after this episode, he'd never think she was being unreasonable again. But for the moment…

"What's the rush, Elizabeth?" he asked breathlessly, which dulled the acidic edge that the sarcastic statement would have held had he not been desperate and heaving for air. He watched her move swiftly around the room searching for something. He would have chastised her for being so careless in one of his labs, but he was too winded at the moment, having been forced to run the entire way and getting a nasty shove whenever he slowed to protest.

"Where is it, Rodney?" she asked, finally giving up on figuring out the McKay organizational processes.

"Where's what!" He snapped at her, finally able to breathe normally again. She was confusing him and he didn't like it. Plus, he seriously thought she might have suffered brain damage. That would explain the coma and the sudden and complete turn around in behavior. He never had liked seeing her sad. But seeing her suddenly excited and happy was just as disturbing. Not to mention, he still couldn't get the image of her waking up Evil Dead style out of his head. It had been so freaky.

"The device from Peconia," she told him desperate for an answer. She needed to get this done quick, before Beckett sent his henchmen to find her and haul her back to the infirmary. When he failed to move, it was her turn to snap. "Tell me where it is!"

The familiar tone of authority caused him to take action like it was a reflex. He led her to a dusty corner of the lab, and pulled a coverlet off with a billow of dust, revealing a cylindrical device about one and a half feet in height. It still glowed from within, reminiscent of a lava lamp. They had never bothered turning it off. They had just stashed it in a corner, not wanting to recall what it had taken from them. She reached out to touch it. Remembering herself and the horrible capabilities of the device, she pulled her hand back quickly.

Seeing Dr. Weir so mindlessly lured by the glow of the dangerous piece of alien technology, Rodney regained his senses.

"What the hell are you doing, Elizabeth!" he scolded. "That's not something you should be messing with!"

"Be quiet, please," she said in a low voice that he had to calm down in order to hear. She held up her hand in a gesture of passivity. "For once, doctor, would you trust someone else?"

She thought back to what John had showed her during the…dream. Yes, it was a dream. But despite how silly it seemed to be following instructions received while unconscious, she had to try. This was no time to lose her resolve. Besides, the damage had been done. They already thought she was crazy with her escape from the infirmary. And if there was any doubt as to that, it was gone as she noticed Rodney slowly sidling back towards the door of the lab reaching his hand to his earpiece, contacting Dr. Beckett, no doubt. She needed more time. How could she stop him, delay his call for reinforcements?

"I could use your help, Dr. McKay," she said in her most formal and gentle diplomatic voice. It _had_ to work on him. _She_ even believed it sounded like the "old days," before John die-disappeared. He paused, his hand dropping to his side and took a reluctant step forward. He couldn't deny science.

"With what exactly?" he asked, at first hesitant then concerned. "What _is_ it you're trying to do? You do realize that this is the device that ki-killed Major Sheppard, don't you? This is really something that you shouldn't be screwing with, Elizabeth."

"It didn't kill him," she replied. The certainty in her eyes scared him, so he responded the only way he knew how…with sarcasm.

He waved his hand in front of her face. "Atlantis to Dr. Weir: Are you still in the Pegasus Galaxy? John is dead. I saw it with my very own eyes. Poof! Vanished! Just like in a disappearing act, cloud of smoke and all. Only it wasn't smoke. It was _him_, his molecules being scattered and floating away on the alien breeze of that godforsaken planet!"

"You're wrong, Rodney," she said evenly after he was done haranguing her. "He didn't die. It just unphased him-"

"_Unphased_ him?" he was still worked up and the tirade of sarcastic criticism continued. She wondered how he still had a tongue with all the acid that poured off from it. "Are you a scientist? Do you have any clue how _ridiculous_ that sounds!"

"No! I'm not a scientist!" she snapped, her patience finally breaking. She took a deep breath and counted to three as he stared her down critically. "That's why I could use your help."

"You need help alright." He wasn't buying it. He turned and stalked out of the lab shouting over his shoulder, "Go ahead and screw with the thing. Don't blame me when you get yourself killed!"

With Rodney gone, she breathed a sigh of relief, and attempted to calm herself. She had to recall the information John had given her, and fast. McKay was no doubt calling for help now that she had angered him. "Think, Elizabeth. Think!"

"_The device activated and there was a blinding flash of light," John told her as they sat by the edge of a pristine babbling brook. "Next thing I know, no one is listening to me or obeying my orders…I mean less so than usual…" he smiled. "…a lot less…I went back through the 'gate with them and found out I was dead at the same time as you did."_

"_Go back a little," Elizabeth said, attempting to force the painful memory of learning of his demise from resurfacing... "Can you remember in more detail what you did to activate the device?"_

"_I'm not sure," he said. "You know how that damn stuff turns on whenever I'm nearby."_

"_This could be important, John," she urged him to remember. "It's information I might be able to use to help you."_

_He hadn't needed to say anything. The look in his eyes said it all: _If you remember_. But he seemed to concentrate on providing the information she requested anyway. It was probably because he didn't want the conversation to end, for her to wake up, to be alone again._

"_I may have touched a couple of the…button-things on the dealie," he confessed after a few moments._

"_Do you remember where they were located?" she asked. Details would be vital, provided that she remembered any of this at all._

"_I think I put my hands around the base, where the symbols were…" he said slowly as he strained to recall the information... "Yeah. Like this." He demonstrated holding his hands out parallel to one another. _

"_Which ones did you touch?" Elizabeth asked, although unsure of whether he had been paying enough attention to notice the symbols in the first place. A look of concentration took over his face, and he bit his bottom lip a little. She almost laughed at the gesture. It was a habit of her own, but she had never seen him succumb to the nervous tendency, and never thought the confident man would. _

_Finally realization seemed to dawn upon his face. He stood and looked around, finding what he was searching for he took a few strides away from Elizabeth along the edge of the babbling brook and crouched down near a patch of white sand. Elizabeth got up to follow him and frowned at the realization that her brain had gotten it wrong. She might not have been a scientist, but even she could tell that this type of sand only belonged on an oceanic beach somewhere. It started to change before her very eyes and she had to concentrate hard to keep it the way it was; it would be easier for John to draw the figure he had already begun amongst the homogenous grains._

_He finished the outline of the glyph, from what he could remember, and looked up at the woman that was his only hope in the universe of returning to the land of the living. "That was one of the symbols I may have tapped with my hand when I was…ahem…_studying_ the device."_

_Elizabeth smiled, laughing inwardly. He had so been playing with it, like she had seen him do dozens of times in Rodney's lab. _

"_Do you remember what the other one looked like?" she asked. He shook his head in the negative. That was understandable. It was lucky he recollected one of them at all. She studied the symbol carefully, trying to commit it to memory._

"_What does it mean?" John asked, watching her scrutinize the drawing intently._

"_I don't know," she confessed. "It's ancient, but without context, it's basically meaningless."_

"_But it will help you to figure out the device if you remember?"_

"_I hope so."_

Elizabeth shook her head, putting an end to the flash of dream she had dredged up. She had the information she needed. Now she had to put it to use. She had to help John as she had promised she would.

The device still pulsated from within, glowing in an eerie yet alluring manner. She resisted the urge just to reach out and touch it, instead forcing her attention to the device's base and the symbols adorning it. They were laid out in sets of three per side, but she did not recognize the symbol that John had drawn for her among them. She felt panic rise within her. Time was very, very swiftly running out. Her concerned expedition members would soon arrive to "aide" her.

Taking a deep breath she tentatively placed her hand on the device, and reassured that it would not explode upon touch, she turned it so that she could see the symbols on the obscured side of the base. And it appeared before her suddenly, like when she drove to her grandmother's house which would magically appear from amongst the trees as they went around the bend in the road. The revelation contained that same feeling of joy, anticipation and excitement as when she was a child going for a visit to her grandmother, who always had a fresh cherry pie cooling just for her. It was the promise that the image of the quaint little cottage held that was exciting. It was the promise that the symbol held, the potential that it represented that lifted her spirits.

So, she had identified one of the symbols that had caused the alien technology to take John from them. The other one had to be in the exact opposite position on the other side. She looked back at the other side. Unable to ascertain the meaning of the glyph, she asked the only question that came to mind. "Now what?"

Faint voices coming from the hallway outside the lab informed Elizabeth that no matter what the next pertinent action may be, she had to take it promptly. She wished she had time to think about it logically, but she knew they would never listen to her, let alone help her, and they were even less likely to let her continue to fiddle with the device by herself when they thought it had killed the major. Instead, she took another deep reassuring breath, reached out her hands and gingerly placed her fingers on two opposing glyphs on the sides she had determined not to be the ones John had messed with. She closed her eyes and pressed them.

A brilliant light flashed. Elizabeth could see it even through her tightly shut eyelids. She opened them, slowly at first, then confirming the brief existence of the light that would have put a solar flare to shame had ended, her eyes widened to their full breadth. And there filling up the right side of her vision was the sight she had longed to see for months.

"John!" she exclaimed, as she moved forward to embrace him, all sense of decorum and formality forgotten. He held out his arms to accept her, a lopsided but very pleased grin across his handsome face.

Instead of being encompassed in a warm body and strong arms, Elizabeth found herself continuing to move forward. She stopped herself and turned around to look at the figure she had just passed through, her eyes wide with fright and shock.

John's face fell from the smile he had as he greeted Elizabeth. He had been so proud of her and she had fast become his favorite person in the galaxy as he had watched her remember him, and the promise she had made him. The excitement over her apparent success faded quickly as he realized the failure for a true resolution, but he was still relieved that she could see him.

"Well, that's not good," he told her nonchalantly.

"Neither is that," she said, looking rather unhappily past him.

He turned to see Rodney, Dr. Beckett, several of the medical staff, and even a couple of people he recognized as military personnel. At least they were unarmed. But Beckett wasn't. John recognized the all-too-familiar makings of a med kit, as the doctor approached their position, talking to Elizabeth coaxingly in his Scottish brogue.

Elizabeth felt like a jumper, someone threatening to hurl themselves off a skyscraper to their death, as Carson was sent in to try and talk her down and an audience had gathered to watch the horror unfold. She noticed personnel that weren't medical staff. Maybe she was more like a hostage taker, then, or someone with a bomb, if they felt the need to call in the SWAT. No matter how they viewed her, Beckett's attempts to talk her down went unnoticed. She hadn't paid attention to a word he'd said. She just kept looking pensively at John, then to the horde closing down upon her, then back to John.

He knew that the others more than likely couldn't see him, because although he didn't expect an ecstatic welcome with fireworks and cake and lots of lots of alcohol, he didn't expect them to ignore his resurrection from death either. Still, Elizabeth's eyes pleaded with him to do something, so he stepped in between her and the ever-approaching and talking doctor. It didn't do much except confirm his suspicions that he was just as nonexistent to the others as he had been for the past several months, for the doctor passed straight through him as Elizabeth had.

John didn't like sharing the same space as another person even if they existed on different planes or whatnot, so he moved out of the area Dr. Beckett was currently occupying, which happened to be only a couple feet in front of Elizabeth.

"Any suggestions?" she asked her ethereal companion, desperately fighting the urge to back away from the approaching doctor.

John looked her straight in the eyes and offered in the most serious manner he could muster the advice he always tried to follow when Dr. Beckett was after him.

"Run?"

She rolled her eyes at him, and even as she surrendered herself to the medical staff, she didn't feel completely disheartened. John was alive. She couldn't deny that now. Neither could she deny how much she missed him. She would have to deal with the horrible conundrum they currently found themselves in at a later time, for the others seemed to be in a less-than-receptive mood and she had no clue how she was going to convince them of her happy revelation.

**A/N: The next chapter shouldn't take as long as this one to be posted. Any advice would be appreciated as to the cohesiveness of the story. Does this chapter (and the last) flow with the first few? Or should I try harder not to change the tone? Or would you like some lighter chapters?**

**A/N2: Oh yeah…I almost forgot. Does anyone know what kind of system they use for naming planets? Is it like SG-1? I think I've heard a number-letter designation before, but I can't really remember. Is what I used for a planet name from somewhere else? I don't know…it just popped into my head? Anyway…I'll let you get on with your life, if you haven't stopped reading this far earlier ;-)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: I'm not sure if I'll keep posting this…it seems like most people lost interest. But it is one of my favourites, so I will probably keep writing it. **

"Elizabeth, Bo-Bizabeth, Banana-Fana, Fo-Fizabeth, Mee-My-Mo-Mizabeth, Elizabeth!"

_Oh God! What was that ringing through her head? _

"Here I sit like a bird in the wilderness…

_Was it singing? _

"…Bird in the wilderness…"

_It sounded more like a dying cat. _

"…Bird in the wilderness…"

_And_ ugh_, it was only getting louder._

"…Here I sit like a bird in the wilderness…"

_Make it stop!_

"…Waiting for E-LIIIZ-A-BETH!"

She opened her eyes and sat up, only to spot John Sheppard sitting on an unoccupied bed not that far away, his mouth stretched wide-open as he belted out the last severely, unrecognizably, off-key notes of the camp song. She was in the infirmary…again. And again she found herself perplexed beyond reason as the events that led up to her current situation flooded back into her conscious mind. She remembered having dragged Rodney to the lab, and fiddling with the device that had supposedly killed John. And it had worked! It must have because here John was serenading-_if you could call it that_-her in the most disturbing and insane gesture she had ever witnessed him make towards anyone.

No, wait. That wasn't right. It hadn't really worked, because no one else could see John…and she couldn't touch him either. Rodney-_the creep_-had called Beckett and they had dragged her back to the infirmary, excusing her behavior as coma-related, sedating her. _Damn them! _They'd have to listen to her now. Where was the insufferable doctor? And why wasn't anyone forcing John to cease that infernal racket!

"Stop it John!" she hissed. In all fairness to the major, all the previous thoughts had passed through Doctor Weir's mind before he had finished bellowing out the last syllable of her name. And he had only done it to wake her up. Just sitting there, waiting, knowing that she was the only one that could see or hear him, the only person he could interact with, the only one that could make him normal again had been driving him crazy.

"Sorry," he apologized, suddenly embarrassed of his behavior. He realized that he would never have done something so strange before this ordeal, especially in front of the leader of Atlantis, but being 'dead' had changed things. "I wanted to make sure you were awake."

"I'm awake, major," she informed him, a smile spreading across her face. He was alive and he was okay…well, maybe a little less sane, but had he really been in full possession of his faculties to start with? "Thank you for your concern."

"It wasn't really you I was worried about." He smiled mischievously. "Because now that you're awake, you can help me live again."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" she asked, suddenly realizing that he was flirting with her…and she was flirting back. He always used to flirt with her, ever so slightly, usually in a subtle manner, but she had never really returned it. She usually would just blush and turn away, or pretend it didn't exist. She must have forgotten what it was like, how to guard herself. Or maybe she just missed him too much to care about censoring herself.

"I don't know," he returned, still smiling boyishly. "I could think of a few things…but what did you have in mind?"

This time, Elizabeth really did blush. Then she jumped as she heard her name spoken in a Scottish accent. _Dr. Beckett!_ How much had he heard? Could he still not see John?

"Good morning, Dr. Weir," he repeated. "Are you feeling any better today?"

"Yes," she told the doctor, glancing quickly in John's direction. She smiled. He was alive and although things weren't completely back to normal, she was happy he was there…well…sort of there.

Carson thought that Elizabeth seemed well, happy even. But she had been smiling excitedly while she had yanked the IV out of her arm and ran off from the infirmary hauling Rodney with her the previous day. She had in fact, been entirely ecstatic up until the point when they had told her she was mistaken, that she was hallucinating, that she was suffering from coma-related trauma. She had been insistent that John Sheppard was alive and standing right before them. Never before had he seen someone slip so quickly into mental disarray. It was disturbing and sad, and he prayed to god that she was really better today. He thought about testing it by asking her about John, but he couldn't do that to her. She had taken the major's death so badly that it had even pushed her over the edge of a mental break. That would explain her behavior the previous day anyway, although not the coma.

"Am I allowed to leave?" Elizabeth inquired, attempting to ignore John's frantic gesturing that she should run while she still could.

"I don't really see a reason to hold ye," Dr. Beckett replied cautiously. How could he bring up the fact that he didn't think she was fit for taking her workload on again, that he wanted her to talk to Dr. Heightmeyer first? She moved to jump off the infirmary bed, and he knew he'd have to be quick in order to catch her. "That doesn't mean that you should dive back into work, Dr. Weir. Just yesterday you were still in the depths of an inexplicable coma that we still haven't determined the source of. I want you to stay in your quarters, take it easy for a few days. Maybe you should talk to Kate about what's happened."

"This doesn't sound like a recommendation, doctor," Elizabeth replied coldly, reading between the lines. She had used language in the same way to coax others into following her orders without actually seeming to give them officially. Carson looked uncomfortable at being caught. John pulled a face at the doctor.

"Told you that you should've run," John said to Elizabeth, noting her slight frustration at being circumvented. She tried to ignore him, focusing instead on Beckett. She really didn't need a repeat of yesterday; the looks of shock, the mentions of insanity, the sedatives, and those aggravatingly calm, pacifying voices.

"Uh…I guess that's because it's not, really," Carson said hesitantly. He was beginning to feel bad about their treatment of their wise and respected leader during the previous day, but "It's for you own health, Elizabeth. We just want to be sure you're alright."

She sighed noticeably. Well, they were going to need time to figure out their next move anyway. How was she supposed to convince the others to assist her in helping John? How was she even supposed to get them to believe he existed?

"Okay, Carson," Elizabeth conceded. "Tell Kate I'll be in my room."

**A/N: I don't know why I'm putting this in here…but I just had to share how much I loved The Siege Pt.III…one of the local stations finally has season two and I'm excited!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: I just can't stop this fic; I really enjoy writing it. So I might as well keep posting it… marella001 suggested that John do "some serious nocturnal visiting of Rodney or someone else." I think that it is a good idea, and he may just have to do that once Elizabeth gets fed up with him.**

"Are you David Carradine?" Elizabeth guessed, confident that she was right, but starting to get annoyed all the same.

"Yes I am, grasshopper," John said, smiling. After god knew how many hours of playing twenty questions, he still seemed to enjoy the game.

He was sitting on the floor of her room, his back against the bed…well, as against it as the body part of a not-really-there man could be. Elizabeth was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling. She wasn't allowed to leave her room; there were even guards posted outside. No one was to sneak in work for her to do. Visits could only consist of mindless small talk; no Atlantis-related business-speak. And it was all John's fault.

The first meeting with Dr. Heightmeyer hadn't gone so well, especially with John making faces and jokes the entire time. She just couldn't ignore him, and broke down into fits of laughter as he went through his psychiatrist routine, asking her how being crazy made her feel in horrible fake German accents. Kate couldn't let the seemingly random behavior slide, so Elizabeth had to try to explain it away. Of course she had failed to convince the woman of John's existence, and now it was probably official that she had suffered a mental break and was delusional. They seemed fine with treating her on Atlantis for the time being, but deep down Elizabeth was afraid that they'd give up and ship her back to Earth. How would she be able to help John then?

"Oh! I got another one," John exclaimed excitedly. Elizabeth sighed heavily. Figuring that she owed him big time for not being able to completely restore him to normal (_yet)_, she submitted to participating in what seemed like the hundredth round of the childish game.

"Are you an actor?"

"No"

"Are you a movie character?"

"No."

"TV character?"

"Yes."

_You're so predictable, John. _"Are you from the 90s?"

"No."

"80s?"

"Yes."

_Knowing him…_ "Do you shoot people?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes," John confirmed, enjoying her brief bafflement. "And that counts as a separate one."

"That's not fair," she informed him.

"I don't make the rules," he excused. "I just obey them."

"If I recall," she said. "You're under my command and are supposed to obey _my _rules."

"That doesn't work for two reasons," he contradicted. She leaned over the edge of the bed to give him a look.

"Oh really?" she asked, daring him to explicate further the reasons why he didn't have to listen to her.

"One: I'm officially dead and you can't bark orders at a corpse and expect it to respond," he informed her with a self-satisfied smile. "And two: you're not really in command right now, because they all think you've gone loony."

She swiped a hand through his ethereal form, attempting to wipe the smug smile of his face. It stayed exactly where it was.

"Tut-tut," he scolded. "Now that wasn't very nice."

She flopped back down on her back, exasperated with the man that she knew she couldn't get rid of, but at the same time was overjoyed by his presence.

"Are you a mercenary for hire?"

"No."

_Fine. Be that way._ She just lay there stretching her mind over what little she remembered or bothered to watch of television during the 1980s. One thing was certain, twenty-questions was a good way to keep her mind from the real dilemma she faced. _How was she going to get John back, completely back?_

A thought sparked in Elizabeth's brain. Unfortunately, it only satisfied the lesser dilemma she currently faced.

"Do you blow things up?" she asked.

"Yes," he conceded. "When necessary."

The appearance of a qualifier signaled to her that she was on the right track. "Do you fashion explosive devices out of paperclips and chewing gum?"

"Sometimes."

"Are you MacGyver?"

"Yes!" John exclaimed, rather amazed at her ability to figure out what he was thinking. Most people required way more than the twenty questions allotted for play, or gave up halfway through. He supposed it was part of her job, and skills, to be able to read people well.

"I've got another one," he informed her, ready to start all over again. He supposed that it should've grown old by then, but it just hadn't. He was just so starved for attention that he was capable of overcoming his tendency towards a short attention span that he had always suffered previously. Someone could actually see him, hear him, talk to him, and not just by being in a dream state. Maybe he shouldn't have teased Elizabeth so much, got her in trouble. He really had only hurt himself by making her appear mentally unstable to the others.

Elizabeth got up and crossed the room to her dresser. She opened a drawer and pulled what John recognized as a bra and panties from it. She proceeded to open the drawers below the first, removing a pair of lounge pants and a camisole to contribute to the pile of clothes in her arms. Adding a towel to her pile, she made her way across the room to the attached bath.

"I'm taking a shower," she told him coldly. "Then I'm going to bed. I do not want to meet you in my dreams. Understood?"

Maybe she was being a bit harsh, but the man was driving her crazy. Pretty soon, she would have to agree with the others' assessment of her mental state. But that would mean resigning herself to spending the rest of her days confined to a small room, which would no doubt include John Sheppard who had nowhere better to be. That was something she would not be willing to do. She definitely needed to do something about this mess, but it was very difficult to figure out what when you had someone like John, who had been deprived of real human contact for months, guilting you into playing twenty-questions with him for hours on end. What she needed was some time alone to think.

John nodded his head, realizing that she was becoming sick of his nagging presence. He had tried to remain light and humorous so as not to alarm her, but he was really quite anxious inside, in addition to being desperate for the social interaction he had been deprived of for so long. What he really wanted to do was to have another try at the alien device, or for Elizabeth to take some sort of action. That was always where they had differed the most, over how to approach situations; Elizabeth was patient and willing to give talk a chance, John always wanted to take immediate action. But he felt that he couldn't push her into doing something rash, especially when he couldn't give her much more than moral support.

Those guards were a definite problem. How would Elizabeth be able to incapacitate them? Maybe she could talk her way past them. Either way, the authorities would be alerted, and they wouldn't have enough time to figure out the device and return him to normal before they were busted again. Well, it would really just be Elizabeth who got in trouble. But if she got stuck, so did he with her. John's future depended on hers. He shook his head and placed it in his ethereal hands. It was all so complex; Complex and frustrating. He couldn't do anything to help Elizabeth help him. Or could he?

John surveyed the room. The noise from the bathroom informed him that Elizabeth was in the shower. He briefly considered sneaking through the wall to spy on her, but not only could she now see him (why hadn't he thought of that earlier when he couldn't be seen even if he had wanted to), it was most certainly inappropriate. Besides, he had an idea. John would invade someone's dreams tonight, other than Elizabeth Weir's, and hopefully would be able to manipulate some answers out of them.

John stood up and confidently walked through the door of Elizabeth's room past the guards into the hallway beyond. This would work. It just had to. He made his way towards the place where he knew he'd find one Dr. Rodney McKay: the science lab.

The question was, how much coffee had the scientist drank and how long would John have to wait for him to fall asleep?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: I believe I owe apologies on several counts. 1. I'm sorry that it took me so long to get this posted. Has it really been a month since the last chapter? 2. I was reading back through the fic, and I realized that I made mistakes in some of the details-mainly anachronisms-such as Elizabeth worrying about them sending her back to earth. I started this fic when I had only seen about half of the first season, and now I'm through the first few episodes of the second. I guess I just space out when I write and forget to keep it in a certain time period. (If you find some, let me know and maybe I'll get around to fixing them) 3. And finally, apologies are owed because I do not believe that I am capable of writing Rodney very well, but can I really do any of the characters justice anyway? So now that I have begged for forgiveness and given you reasons to despise me...please read on and enjoy…**

In the middle of a field full of bright green grass, John spotted the scientist, hunched over some strange device. There was some sort of generic gathering of huts in the distance; it could have been Joe Pegasus Galaxy's village. He took a deep breath and attempted to prepare himself mentally for the encounter with the stubborn scientist, for John had discovered on previous occasions that McKay was McKay no matter if he was in a dream state or not.

"Hey McKay," he greeted the scientist when he was just a few feet from him. The other man grunted in response but did not look up from the device.

"Oh god. What a geek. He even dreams about working on alien technology," Sheppard muttered under his breath, knowing what the effect not being able to hear what was said would have on Rodney.

"What was that?" McKay asked, turning his scrutinizing attention upon John. He gave him a look of fed-up annoyance, something John remembered well.

"I asked you whether this is the device from MXG-241," John said, trying to coax the scientist's dream in the direction he wanted.

"No, it isn't," McKay snapped back. "Obviously, this is totally different from…

He trailed off for a moment, and John could've sworn that reality was attempting to assert itself into Rodney's subconscious. It was as close as John had ever seen the man to realizing that it was a dream, but it didn't last. Instead, McKay simply returned his attention to the device.

"Are you sure it isn't the device from MXG-241?" John tried again.

"Yes!" Rodney barked, this time without looking up from the object that retained his full attention.

"Look a little closer, Rodney," John suggested. He wasn't ready to give up yet. "I think you'll find that it _is_ the device from MXG-241."

This time the scientist stood up to face his harasser, throwing the implement he was using to meddle with the device to the ground. John had definitely pissed him off. It remained to be seen if it would have the result he desired.

"Sheppard, you can be severely dense sometimes!" Rodney shouted, his hands beginning to flail about wildly. "Even a wild chimp, not even a trained one, could recognize that this" he gestured to the strangely glowing shiny device standing next to him "is an entirely different piece of technology than the device from MXG-241! We're not even on the same planet!"

"What exactly is the difference between the two devices?" John asked.

"_Difference_? There are any number of differences," McKay shouted, annoyance more than apparent in the look upon his face. "For starters, the entire basis of the-

"Wait, stop!" John interrupted him. Anger began to redden the other man's face. But John knew that McKay did his best thinking when he was worked up, and he needed his friend to do some real contemplative exercising. "Skip all the techno-babble. Just tell me what they do."

"Fine," Rodney huffed. "Well, this device is obviously some sort of energy-matter…trans…

"You have no idea, do you?" John asked, almost laughing but for the need to keep McKay thinking. It really reminded him of old times.

"Uh-no, not really," he conceded, looking back at the strange contraption. John gave him a critical look on the edge of rolling his eyes, which challenged Rodney to demonstrate his unwavering brilliance. "But the device from MXG-241, now that, _that_ I know what it does."

"And what is that?" John asked, satisfied that he was finally getting somewhere with the infuriating scientist.

"It, well, it…" again Rodney trailed off as reality attempted to wrestle its way into his dreaming mind. He gave John a critical, disturbed look. "It killed you. But that can't be right because I'm looking at your stupid face right now."

"No, that's about right," John said. "You think I'm dead, but I'm not really. Well, you think I'm alive now but in real life you think I'm dead but I'm not."

"What the hell are you talking about, Sheppard?"

"And oh yeah, this is just a dream…" John added. "…Except the part about me actually not being dead. That's true."

"Right. Very funny. It looks like Rodney needs some quiet quality time with that alien device, so let's go mess with his head and see how confused we can make him and distract him from his work. Haha. Everybody's laughing, major."

John sighed, and there it was, like the dozens of other times he had tried to convince McKay of the truth in his dreams. The man was just too arrogant and obstinate to listen and truly consider what was being said, not to mention unimaginative. This dream world he conjured was more monotonous and stereotypical than real life could ever be.

"Why don't you go back to the village, Kirk," Rodney continued snidely. "I'm sure there are some attractive women there you can try and woo."

"I don't think that'll be necessary," John said, spotting several figures approaching from the distant village. He could tell their gender by the snug clothes they wore and the way it hugged their curves as they moved. As they got ever closer, John's eyes widened. They were knockouts.

"I was wrong about you McKay," John told his dreaming friend, as the women stopped to greet them. "You do have an interesting imagination."

--------------------------------------------------------

Maybe John should have tried harder to pry the information he needed out of Rodney, but the normally pragmatic scientist had conjured up a pretty good dream. And he was currently quite content to enjoy the imaginings of his unswayable friend.

"Mmm…thanks," John mumbled as a beautiful brunette popped another grape in his mouth. She, her three friends, Rodney and he were resting comfortably upon a blanket spread out on the grass, enjoying a sumptuous picnic. And although he knew it was just a dream, John couldn't help being swept up in its charms.

Having been stuffed full at the hands of the gorgeous village girls, John had laid back, just closing his eyes, ready for a nice respite when a startled shout from Rodney roused his senses and started his heart beating more rapidly.

"What is it?" he asked sitting up, simultaneously obviating the question by identifying the figures fast approaching on the horizon.

"Wraith!" Rodney shouted again, fear blatantly spread across his face. John cursed the man; he was just beginning to feel relaxed, enjoying the pseudoreality created by the scientist's mind.

John Sheppard jumped to his feet, ready to fend the monsters off, and then hesitated momentarily. He didn't really have to do battle with the apparitions. It was only a dream. And it wasn't even _his_ dream for that matter. Plus, Rodney hadn't provided him with any sort of weapon. But John wasn't one to abandon a friend in need, even if it was all a dream.

So instead, he prepared himself to receive the onslaught from the murderous enemy. There had to be at least five. It would be difficult. He'd probably die. How ironic was that? Dying in a dream of a man who already thinks you're dead…

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"Elizabeth," John gently whispered into the sleeping woman's ear. When she failed to even stir, he knew he had to let her be. She deserved the rest. He considered entering her dreams, but she had explicitly told him not to, and besides, she definitely deserved the reprieve from his plaguing presence.

He sat down in a chair in her room, having nothing better to do but wait for her to wake. The attempt to extort information out of Rodney's dreams had been an almost complete failure. But the man had hesitated for a second; he was on the edge of realization. How could John push him over? Maybe he'd try again the next night. On the other hand, how many times before had he been deluded into thinking he was about to break through to his friend, only to fail miserably?

Sighing heavily, John regretted the fact that he never felt tired in this state. It was almost as torturous as never feeling hungry. It was unnatural and disturbing. And it made him feel even more depressed than not being able to interact with people.

Elizabeth's face looked serene as she slept, almost angelic. She _was_ pretty. Studying Elizabeth's features gave John something to occupy the time, so he continued to watch her as she slept. After he had scrutinized her sleeping form for awhile, becoming entranced by her delicate pursed lips, her bare shoulder, and the curves of her body under the blankets, he finally realized that it was an incredibly rude and inappropriate endeavor.

John rose to his feet. He had to get out of there. It just wasn't good for them, spending so much time together. He had already begun to get on her nerves. And now it was messing with his head, too. He couldn't afford to think things like the notions that had begun to creep into his mind. Getting everything back to normal, to the way it had been, that was what was important…

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**A/N: One more apology: Sorry for reverting back to Elizabeth and John whatnot…I just can't resist, not even for a chapter. Scold me if you must! I deserve it…**

**Up next…John has an idea about how to convince the others that Elizabeth is telling the truth. But will they buy it? How much longer will Elizabeth be able to keep it together?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: I wasn't sure about posting this yet. I edited it several times (for minor things) but it still doesn't feel right. Something about the way it flows…never mind. I guess we'll see how y'all feel about it…**

"I'd like to talk to Rodney and Carson as well," Elizabeth informed Kate, hoping the woman would fulfill the request and she wouldn't have to negotiate a deal.

"We'll see about them paying you a visit later on," the psychologist replied. Elizabeth had never realized how frustratingly passive the woman's tone of voice could be. "But first, let's talk about how you're feeling."

"Maybe you didn't understand me," Elizabeth said, fighting the irritation she was feeling at being patronized. If she held any clout at all still, this would provide the test of it. "I _want_ to talk to Dr. McKay and Dr. Beckett _right now_."

Kate seemed slightly taken aback by the forcefulness with which she was being addressed. She knew that as the leader of Atlantis, Elizabeth was fully capable of displaying a commanding presence, but Kate had rarely witnessed that aspect of the woman before, and had never had it directed upon herself. The Dr. Weir she knew was the kind and gentle leader they all were familiar with. The appearance of this particular version of Elizabeth convinced Kate to the seriousness with which she held her request.

"Okay, Elizabeth," Kate conceded, alarmed by the dire look in the other woman's eyes. This was a woman who if not at the end of her rope, was very near it. "I'll see what I can do."

Dr. Heightmeyer rose from her seat and exited through Elizabeth's guarded door. The movement of the woman's delicate hand to her ear signaled that she was in fact attempting to contact someone; hopefully those Elizabeth had requested an audience with.

"This had better work," she hissed at her invisible companion, who had thankfully remained silent while she had been talking to the shrink.

"It will," John replied confidently from where he had been pacing at the other side of the room, waiting anxiously for Elizabeth to work her persuasive magic. The diplomat had seemed to lose her touch from before he 'died.' He smiled as he thought that it had been his presence which had kept her negotiating skills sharp, and his absence that had caused them to fall into disuse. She gave him a trusting but unsure look. He let his grin fall lopsided a bit. "At least, I think it will work."

She rolled her eyes at him. It was a gesture whose use she had lost since John had left her life. Sure, Rodney required the occasional eye-roll, but he had ceased to make her life as difficult without the presence of his juvenile flyboy friend to compound his adolescent behavior.

"Well, it's the only idea I've got," he continued to excuse his mediocre plan. "Besides you taking out the two guards and breaking into McKay's lab, stealing equipment and managing to elude detection long enough to fix me back right as rain."

She looked severely depressed at the suggested alternative course of action, so he smiled at her again.

_Oh god, John_. She thought to herself. _What am I going to do with you?_

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Rodney didn't look pleased at being torn away from work, but he also looked concerned; Elizabeth wasn't sure which frightened her more. If Rodney was to the point of worrying about another human being, that individual was probably pretty badly off.

"Well, Elizabeth," the scientist began. "What's going on?"

She recognized it as one of the more gentle tones that McKay could muster, but it was obviously not satisfactory enough to the other two doctors. They gave him a critical look for supposedly being harsh with the sensitive, mentally disturbed former leader of Atlantis. Elizabeth ignored the reactions of Drs. Beckett and Heightmeyer. Their patronizing sympathetic looks were far more annoying than Rodney being his usual slightly-insulting self.

"I wanted you all here," she began her explanation but found it difficult to continue. Fear that they wouldn't believe her snuck up upon her rather quickly, although she knew it was a possibility when she had agreed with John to give it a try. "Because I think there is a way to prove to you that I am not crazy."

She avoided mentioning John's name at first, worried that it would only serve to shut them down and close their minds to her arguments. Studying their faces didn't reveal anything to the contrary and nothing the least bit reassuring. The likelihood that they might actually consider what she said next was minimal. But she had to go forward, attempt to convince them of the truth.

"Last night, you had a dream about fixing an alien device," Elizabeth told Rodney. The others looked confused over the statement, then turned their attention to the focus of Elizabeth's.

"Oh. I get it," Rodney eventually replied after a moment of perplexed shock laced with a little bit of terror, which always seemed to appear when the man didn't understand what was happening. "You've been practicing mind-reading tricks. Not very convincing, though, Elizabeth. I mean, something a little less predictable than me dreaming about alien technologies would be far more amazing, providing that your goal is to 'wow' the audience. Who exactly are you trying to impress anyway? Is there an Atlantis Variety Show that I haven't heard about? If there isn't, you really should think of more productive-

"Rodney!" Carson scolded. Elizabeth was surprised that they let him berate a supposedly unstable woman like that for as long as they did. Then again, she hadn't really minded it. It was nice to be treated normally again. Dr. Heightmeyer decided it was time to retake control of the conversation.

"What is this supposed to prove to us, Elizabeth?" Kate asked with sincerity and a forced look of understanding attempting to mask her blatant perplexity.

"John is alive," Elizabeth said firmly. She didn't especially care to study their responses. "He visited Rodney's dreams last night. And if you'll listen to me for just a few minutes, he'll explain them to me, and I to you."

The trio of concerned faces didn't budge from their seats across from her, so she decided to continue with the endeavor. She nodded to John who began to recount the story to her, and her to them.

"Of course I dream about Wraith murdering me horribly!" Rodney interjected as Elizabeth related the details of the scientist's dream with amazing accuracy. "If you haven't noticed, we are _all_ about to die at Wraith hands most of the time!"

"Then why was John there?" Elizabeth asked quietly and calmly, contrasting the mercurial scientist's manner. "Why would you dream of him, if he has been dead for months?"

"The question should be 'why _wouldn't_ he be there?' Every time I was about to die a terrifying and painful death, Sheppard was there."

"Calm down, Rodney," Kate tried to soothe the scientist, but without any avail. Instead the worked up man rose to his feet and made to leave the room. She tried again to retain his attention, only a little more harshly. "Rodney!"

He turned to face them before he walked out the door. The look upon his face was no longer one of anger, but one of sadness and frustration. "I can't bear any more of this…"

And with that he was gone. And they all knew what he meant. Elizabeth's perceived condition, his inability to do anything about it, was tearing him up inside. He had already lost one of his closest friends, someone who was practically family to him, without being able to do a single thing about it. And now he was losing another.

"What now, John?" Elizabeth asked. She no longer cared about how she looked talking to what appeared to be nothing in front of the others.

"I wandered around for a little while after I tried Rodney last night," he said. Unsaid was that it was after he had watched her sleep for several hours. "Dr. Heightmeyer was drinking tea. Chamomile, I think. Two sugars, one cream."

Elizabeth sighed. With the luck they were having, it wouldn't work. It probably wouldn't even place the seeds of doubt-or belief, as it were-in the others' minds. But she couldn't give up. She could never give up. If John hadn't conceded defeat in all those months, then she couldn't either, no matter how long it took.

"Last night, John saw you drinking tea, Kate," Elizabeth relayed. "He thinks it was chamomile. Two sugars, one cream."

"Elizabeth," Kate began, the strain of dealing with the disturbed woman finally beginning to show on her face. "You know how I drink my tea. We've had breakfast together many times. You have to let this go."

"Anything else?" Elizabeth asked John. He held up a hand, signaling that he wanted her to give him a minute to think.

"You need to let him go, Elizabeth," Kate continued. "It's not good for you. Isn't that right Dr. Beckett?"

"Pardon?" he said, drawn away from the thoughts he had been lost in for the majority of the conversation. He didn't like seeing Elizabeth like that, and welcomed any thought that would take him away from witnessing it, and especially those that might lead him to an explanation of her behavior, of the coma she had suffered. "Oh, right. Very true, Dr. Heightmeyer. It's already begun to take a physical toll upon you, lass. Or did you forget about the inexplicable coma you just came out of less than a week ago?"

"I saw Beckett working on something in the infirmary," John spoke over the others. Elizabeth had stopped listening to the doctors as soon as she learned that they remained unpersuaded. She nodded her head to tell John to continue. "I'm not sure what it was besides it involved lots of equipment and a microscope…"

"That's not going to be enough, John, but I'll try," she told him. Beckett and Heightmeyer had stopped trying to coax her and stared at her instead as she so easily and unselfconsciously conversed with air. "Carson, he also saw you working on something in the infirmary late last night…something with a microscope. He doesn't know what the other equipment was. But someone came in with a burn…on their hand…a scientist…female."

"That's uncanny, Elizabeth," Carson conceded, but he remained unconvinced. That could have been a number of different nights during any week, including last night. However, maybe there was something to it, but he doubted it was as she insisted. It was more likely that Elizabeth had been exposed to something, something that made her fall into that coma, something that activated some strange sort of latent telepathic abilities. "But it's not proof of anything besides your ability to guess and read people well."

It was his turn to rise to his feet with a look of sadness lining his features. "I've got work to get back to, but I'm sure that Dr. Heightmeyer won't mind talking to you for a little while longer. And I'll check in on you later. Okay?"

Elizabeth didn't respond. She was too upset. If she said anything, it would only serve to exacerbate that situation. And that was something she didn't need. Carson seemed to give up on any response from her and left the room.

So it was down to just Dr. Heightmeyer, herself and the invisible plague on her existence. And oddly enough, she felt like choosing the company of her ethereal friend over all those who were 'living.'

"I don't feel like talking anymore," Elizabeth said, cutting the doctor off before she began her psychobabble again. The blonde woman simply nodded her head. She had had enough of talk as well. She felt like she was getting nowhere with Elizabeth.

"I'll see you later, Dr. Weir," she said before leaving. "Please try to get some rest and _please_ consider what I've said."

"I'd ask you to do the same if I thought it would do any good," Elizabeth responded. Kate frowned and deciding there could be no response, left Elizabeth alone, or so she thought.

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After everyone left, Elizabeth sighed heavily and lay back on her bed. She felt like crying. The whole ordeal had gotten them nowhere further. If anything it had worsened the situation. But she had to stay strong. She couldn't let John see her crack for fear that he would lose hope as well. That didn't mean the urge wasn't there. _What were they going to do? What was_ she_ going to do?_

Elizabeth sat up and perched on the edge of her bed, her back to John, placing her head in her hands. She heard him walk over to her and sit down next to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered, lifting her head from her hands. She stared at the wall for a moment, trying to make a decision before she turned to face him. "It's just that…now what do we do?"

They both knew what their only other option was…_her_ only other option, John corrected himself. It would all be on her. It _was_ all on her. But he couldn't let himself think about the advantage he had been taking of her, the horrible burden he had placed upon her. She was his only hope.

"It's your decision," he informed her, hoping that he wasn't pressuring her into anything she didn't feel she could do. She seemed to gaze off into space for a little while longer before she faced him again.

"Okay. What do I have to do?"

**A/N: Next time…Elizabeth finally takes action, but will she succeed? **


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Warning: I upped the rating overall for this fic due to the occasional appearance of inappropriate language and violence, although it's not graphic…yet. Actually, I probably won't include too much graphic violence. It doesn't quite jive with the story…**

**Author's note: Very near the end now…I can practically taste it! Basically that means, as long as this writing high endures, the final chapters should be posted rather quickly in comparison to my usual deathly slow pace. I was going to make this chapter even longer than it already is, but I found a good stopping point. The following chapter should be finished rather swiftly, but will probably be significantly shorter, unless I ramble on, which is obviously very likely for if you cannot tell, I'm long-winded. Um…try and enjoy despite my lengthy narrative tendencies…**

"Are you sure about this?" Elizabeth asked anxiously. What she was planning to do was so entirely out of character that she was beginning to have doubts about her sanity as well. It gave her comfort that she once again had John Sheppard to blame for getting into bizarre and difficult situations.

"Are _you_ sure about this?" he returned inquisitively. He gave her a look as if he was attempting to ascertain how committed or convinced she was in her next course of action. He had described in detail what she would have to do, what she should anticipate having to do if the situation arose. "You're the one putting themselves on the line."

She couldn't help but smile at his serious tone, the concern he showed her. "It's not like I'm breaking into a Wraith lab."

"Just because they're our people, doesn't mean they can't be dangerous Elizabeth," he said, not the least bit amused as she had been by the comparison of Atlantis to a Wraith hive-ship. John was having significant doubts about asking Elizabeth to do this for him.

"I know," she responded, the smile gone from her lips. He was right. The things she had seen some of their people do at times, the choices they had made, frightened her beyond reason. They were good people, but the Pegasus Galaxy was not a good place to be. She shook the thought off, knowing that she would very soon be going into a situation that pitted them against her.

"What should I use?" she asked John for his advice as she paced around her room, searching for an object that could be turned into a weapon against those guarding her door. She needed something heavy enough to take them out with a single blow, but light enough that she could wield it with little difficulty.

"How 'bout this?" John suggested from across the room. She turned and walked over to see what he was pointing at. Again, Elizabeth found herself smiling at him. He had a knack for unwitting irony.

"The statue of the peace goddess the Athosians made for me?" She began to laugh quietly as she pictured its delicate serene face imprinted on the foreheads of whoever the unfortunate souls guarding her door were. Then she scolded herself. _It's not that funny! _Maybe her nerves had started getting to her. God knew she was extremely apprehensive about staging an escape attempt, and possibly doing harm to her own people.

"Are you alright?" John managed to ask, also beginning to chuckle as he realized the humor in his suggested choice of weapon. They both took a moment to calm down and Elizabeth's face one again took a more somber and determined set. John took it as a cue. "Ready to do this?"

She nodded her head, picked up the sizeable Athosian woodcarving, and stood before the door that would lead to John's salvation…_his salvation or even more trouble for me._ Elizabeth took several deep breaths and with a reassuring look from John, activated the door panel.

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The look of shock in the young man's face was matched only by her own at realizing how effective a blow she had delivered to the side of his head. He instantly fell to the floor unconscious. Elizabeth had no time to entertain her surprise over her action, for she wouldn't have long before the unconscious man's companion got over his own shock and surprise. John had been explicit on that point; _don't hesitate_.

And she didn't. With another powerful swing she took the other man guarding her door out with a blow to the head that mirrored the previous. She stepped back out of the way as he came crashing down to the floor, wondering at the facility in doing such harm to another person. She had always known that human beings weren't the strongest of creatures, but she never knew they were _that_ fragile either. It seemed too easy. Elizabeth wasn't deluded about her self; she knew she was on the frail side. How did she manage to take the guards out with such a minimal amount of effort? It must have been the statue…leverage…that was it. She just couldn't see herself hurting others so easily.

"Elizabeth?"

John's voice tore her away from her thoughts. She had ended up violating the rule he had stressed as the most vital anyway; _don't hesitate!_

"Okay, let's go!" she whispered, letting the peace goddess statue fall to the floor with an audible clatter that echoed down the hall. Then she was gone, moving through the halls swiftly and it was all that John could do to keep up with her.

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It wasn't only the speed with which Elizabeth covered the distance to the science lab that impressed John. It was how stealthily she navigated the corridors, which were anything but vacant. She was good at going undetected, and she moved without a sound. He smiled to himself realizing that was why she had refused to adorn her shoes, simply stating that she was more comfortable in bare feet. And with the grace that she inconspicuously traversed the halls, John was liable to believe her if she were to tell him she was once a dancer. He made a note to himself that he needn't be so protective of Elizabeth in the future. She was apparently quite capable of taking care of herself.

She finally slowed as they neared the science lab, coming to a stop before she turned down the corridor where it was located. She cautiously and quickly peered around the corner.

"Looks like the coast is clea-" Elizabeth began to whisper but found herself horrible unnerved by the look John was giving her._ "What are you smiling at_?

"Sorry, Elizabeth," he apologized in a whisper to match hers, although he wasn't sure why it mattered how loud he spoke, since no one else could hear him. "It's just that I never pictured you as the clandestine type. You always used to lecture me on how we should be open and honest with others as much as possible. And here you are sneaking around inside the city, hiding from our own people."

Elizabeth was not amused. She was far too stressed to share in his enjoyment of the situation. "I'm glad you find this amusing, John. But I could use your help finding out whether anyone is currently in that lab."

"Right," John conceded, still quite bemused by witnessing this particular side of his former (hopefully soon to be again) leader. He just couldn't get over it. "Reconnaissance?"

"Yes, John. 'Reconnaissance'," Elizabeth whispered exasperatedly. If this was what the man was like during tense missions, it was a wonder that Ford, Teyla or Rodney hadn't shot him or left him behind yet. Next time he failed to come back through the 'gate, she would know the real reason…He continued to smile at her like he lived in his own little world, in which she existed only to provide him entertainment. She gave him the worst schoolmarm I-am-not-pleased look she had ever been able to conjure. It failed to do its job.

"Like we're spies?" he asked her, still looking happy despite her obvious anger.

Knowing him, he wouldn't give up until she gave him something, even just a little. She sighed inwardly. For a man, John Sheppard was pretty high-maintenance. She would live to regret this, but they needed to move on…and quickly. "Yes. Reconnaissance. Like Spies. You can be 'James Bond.' Just don't call me 'Ms. Galore'."

She let her lips twitch slightly on the last bit, enough to convince him she had consented to lighten up. His smile widened then broke as a focused look crossed his face. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of her then started to jog off around the corner. Elizabeth leaned back against the wall and allowed herself to breath. _That man is way too calm in such situati-_

"Don't worry, 'Pussy'. Nothing can stop 007." John popped his head back around the corner and said in a horrible rendition of a Sean Connery style British accent. Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin, startled. When he disappeared once more, she could only think of the things she would do to him when she could finally wrap her hands around his neck again.

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After John had returned (Elizabeth wasn't sure whether it took too long or not long enough) and informed her that the coast was clear, they made their way quietly into the momentarily serene science lab. It was lucky that no scientists were working on anything in that particular lab when they had chosen to make their-well, _her_ escape. John couldn't exactly 'escape' from anywhere considering that he didn't really have a problem with barriers at the moment, besides a severe communication gap, as it were.

"What now?" Elizabeth asked. They had made plans, but those plans had been tremendously shortsighted, focusing primarily on getting to the lab, a feat neither of them thought she'd actually accomplish. John began to survey the room, his military mind beginning to kick in.

"I assume that you're going to need some time to figure that thing out?" he asked, giving her a glance before continuing his perusal of the facilities at hand. She nodded her head, slightly distracted by the opportunity to see him truly behave like she remembered, act like the John Sheppard she knew. "We'll need to barricade the door then…I mean, _you'll_ need to barricade the door."

She smiled at the correction. He was having a hard time not being able to help her, or himself for that matter. Maybe he'd learn a lesson in patience and cooperation from all of this, and not run off foolhardily on his own in order to 'save them all' so much in the future. But that was a thought to consider later. Right at that moment, it was Elizabeth's turn to get a lesson in enemy evasion and fortification of a seemingly untenable position.

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Elizabeth sighed heavily. It had been about an hour since she had first sat down with a laptop and began searching for any clues to the operation of the device from MXG-241. She could only estimate that it had taken them about half an hour to reach the lab and secure the door as best as she could; which had entailed smashing the control panel into little shards and moving as much free standing furniture as she could find to form a barricade in front of it.

She shifted uncomfortably. Why had she chosen to sit on the floor anyway? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, like it would obscure her from the view of anyone who blew a hole through her protective barrier. And maybe it would…for a few seconds at least, until they looked down.

It wasn't just the discomfort of the hard Atlantian tiled floor that made her uneasy. Nor was it the fact that every minute that passed was one less minute she had to work before the others discovered what she had done and came to retrieve her. It was mainly that she was getting nowhere. She had tried retranslating the symbols that adorned the device, but discovered there hadn't really been any errors made. They spoke of the alteration of a person on the smallest, most fundamental level; something about vibrations and frequencies. Frankly, she really couldn't tell if the symbols had been interpreted properly. She didn't have the scientific knowledge that would allow her to identify inconsistencies in the translation.

Permitting herself an expressive low throaty growl, Elizabeth vocalized her frustration, and in so doing captured John's attention. He had been popping in and out, passing back and forth through the wall to check on the status of the others, whether they had realized her escape attempt, whether they had figured out where she had gone. He had returned just in time to catch Elizabeth's abnormally primal utterance.

"How's it going?" he asked, sounding hopeful but not so much as to place even more pressure on her. She frowned at him and took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"I'm sorry John," she sincerely apologized. "It's not going as well as I hoped."

"It's okay," he told her, then smiled, although she was quite certain his heart wasn't in it. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. You've never failed me before."

His trust made her feel warm inside, provided her some small relief and contentment. But at the same time it worsened the pressure on her. _What if she failed him?_ She swallowed hard.

"How much time have we got?" she asked him, studying his face. His avoidance of her eyes told her that she wouldn't like the answer.

"Not much," he informed her, very much sobered from the warmth he had just shown her a few minutes prior. "They've already found Sergeant Rogers and Corporal Kinsey. It'll only be a matter of time before they figure out where we went. But you did a good job with the door. It'll definitely take them awhile to break through that barricade."

Despite the anxiety the revelation created in her, Elizabeth was able to entertain the small bit of admiration that John knew who the men she had taken out were. She wasn't sure she even recognized them at the time, let alone remembered them. She suddenly found it very important that she recall who they were, like it would prove that she hadn't become completely callous and insensitive from the whole ordeal. Rogers had been the taller one…or was that Kinsey? No, no. Kinsey was definitely the Canadian, the shorter one with dark hair that she had knocked unconscious first.

There, she remembered. But was she any less of a horrible person for it?

_Not now, Elizabeth!_ She scolded herself. She really didn't have the time to debate her current ethical and moral standing. She needed to keep working, trying to figure out how to help John. Returning her attention to the computer screen didn't provide any fresh insight. She sighed again.

After several more stress-filled minutes of getting nowhere, Elizabeth let her attention wander from the computer screen again. Her eyes scanned the dark, cluttered (more like trashed) laboratory. John was gone again, no doubt performing 'reconnaissance' on the others. The man just couldn't stand the fact that he could do nothing to physically aide her. But could she really criticize him for his frantic, nervous tendencies? She knew for a fact that if she were in his place, she would have gone just as insane. He actually had been keeping it together fairly well.

"_Dammit, Elizabeth!"_ she hissed at herself. "_Focus!" _

Instead of going back to the computer she decided to approach the source of all the trouble directly. She got up and walked over to the device and gave it the severest death-glare she was capable of conjuring. It was all she could do to fight the incredible urge to pick up the glowing bane of her existence and hurl it at the nearest wall, reveling in its destruction into a million tiny luminous fragments. _That would teach it to meddle with people's lives!_

Oh god, she was going as crazy as John had!

Again, Elizabeth strived to keep her focus on the problem at hand. But no matter how hard she tried to think, her mind kept losing interest. And she knew precisely the reason why. Each time she approached the problem her brain could see no solution and decided to shift its efforts to more feasible analytical tasks. She could see no solution but one…

She exhaled a long, tortuously beleaguered breath as she allowed herself to slump to the floor in despair.

"I need Rodney's help," she said quietly to herself. And the statement held a great deal of finality for she knew it was the truth.

**A/N: Wow…I am being quite Elizabeth-centric, but that's how I started this fic and that's probably how I'll end it…so at least I'm consistent? (I can't help it. I love that character!)**

**Up next…The others track their escaped "loony" down, but how easy will it be to get her back? What will Elizabeth do when they find her? Will John be able to help her?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's Note: This took longer than I thought it would to get it done and posted. Then again, I didn't think this chapter was going to be that long, and I think it actually ended up longer than the rest. Goes to show my tendency to be long-winded…Enjoy!**

"Elizabeth? Please come out, lass."

They had discovered her refuge, as evidenced by the coaxing tone of Dr. Beckett's voice calling to her from the other side of the door, beyond her barricade. It wasn't especially pleasing to realize that they had sent the good doctor to talk her down again. Don't get her wrong, she generally liked the man. He was a compassionate, decent sort. But given the circumstances he was more of a vexation than a source of solace.

"Dr. Weir? It's Dr. Heightmeyer. We just want to talk to you."

"Oh great," Elizabeth muttered to herself. Imposing one placating, frustratingly calm and soothing voice upon her wasn't horrendous enough. They had to send two people to try to mollify the crazy woman. "They 'just want to talk.' _Always_ with the 'talk.'"

Chuckling emerging from her right alerted Elizabeth to the presence of what was probably the only person in Atlantis that didn't think she had lost her mind. She turned and glared at John Sheppard. He had returned from inspecting the throng of doctors and military personnel that had gathered outside to reclaim her, and just in time to witness her muttering to herself.

"And what, may I ask, do you find so amusing, Major Sheppard?" she asked daring him to continue to find her situation humorous. He gave her a facetious smile.

"I just never thought I'd see the day when Elizabeth Weir was sick of 'talk'," he told her while attempting to remain straight-faced. With every passing moment, her suspicions that he was sticking around solely because he found her entertaining became more solidified. _Why was she trying to help this man?!_

Well, she knew why. She cared a great deal for him and she wanted him back. They needed him. She needed him. And he needed her help. But,_ boy_, was he making it difficult for her. She decided to tell him so.

"You know what?" she prompted.

"What?"

"You aren't making this any easier, you know. There's entire mob of people just beyond that door who think I'm crazy and want to sedate me and lock me in my room again. And it's all thanks to you. And in addition to said 'mob' threatening to knock down the door, you insist upon mocking me!"

"Well, I wouldn't call it a 'mob' exactly…" he attempted the only response he could think of to counter the tirade he had just rightly received. In his defense, he had only been trying to lighten the mood in a tense situation. That's how he worked, how he coped with all the precarious situations he often found himself caught in. Evidently, Elizabeth did not deal with stress in the same manner.

"Even if it doesn't constitute a 'mob'," Elizabeth began, realizing her critical spiel had done its trick in sobering John. "How am I supposed to deal with them? What would be gained by evading capture?"

"Umm…" John was at a loss, considering that the main reason for executing her escape in the first place had been to get to the device and figure it out, which Elizabeth had regrettably informed him she could not do on her own. But he didn't want her to give up either. "There's always avoiding another dose of your least-favorite sedative."

She gave him a desperate look in response. He did have a valid point; she wasn't especially looking forward to being confined to her room again, with only the puerile major to keep her company between psychiatric visits. But the problem was…

"I wouldn't be able to shake the others off, even if I knew how," Elizabeth explained away her reluctance in pursuing his suggested course of action.

John wanted to smile at her, but knew his light humor was beginning to grate on her nerves. However, after the display she had put on earlier in arriving to the lab, he couldn't help but think she gave herself too little credit. But even with her surprising surreptitious abilities, Elizabeth wouldn't probably be able to get past the myriad of personnel in the corridor, at least not when she wasn't confident in the endeavor.

"But I know how to get past them," John offered, a thought striking his mind like a luminescent bolt of lightning. The plan began to lay itself out before him as she scrutinized his eyes.

"Maybe so, but telling me isn't going to impart the ability upon me," Elizabeth replied, unsure as to how his affirmation constituted a solution.

"Exactly," he replied smugly. Judging by the look adorning his face, Elizabeth was fairly sure that she did not like where this was going. She raised an eyebrow at him, illustrating her thoughts to him, urging him to offer a decent explanation, and quickly, before she decided to give up on him and surrender herself to those who thought her mentally unstable.

John hesitated. It was a good plan…at least it sounded good in his head. Well, it was the only plan they had to get her out of there bar the subdued and more-than-likely sedated method that would no doubt result from her surrender. But still…he was hesitant to propose the idea to Elizabeth. It wasn't exactly normal or facile. It would no doubt make both of them very uncomfortable…but _what else could they do?_

"I can get you out of here," He continued, finally deciding that it was the best, the _only_ recommendation he had formulated, and she deserved having the option. "But you would have to let me take control of your body."

"What?!"

Okay, she had taken it the way John thought she might…

He studied her face in a vain attempt to ascertain her thoughts. The look of utter shock passed after a few more seconds than he had hoped it would take. It was followed by a look of…well…disgust. But that passed too, and it was his turn to put on a confident face as she returned to her classic manner of analyzing the person offering her options or news she did not exactly wish to consider.

"You can do that?" she asked, rather quiescently considering her evident shock but a few seconds prior. "_How can you do that?_"

"I'm not exactly sure if I can," he began. Elizabeth glared at him. It seemed like she was doing that a lot lately. "I've never been able to really try before, because no one was willing to let me. No one knew I existed."

Elizabeth continued to stare him down.

"But I think it will work like when I visit people's dreams," John rationalized, struggling to validate his plan. "They're in an unconscious state, so their minds are more open to letting me in. I think if you concentrate on releasing control, I can take over."

She nodded her head. John wasn't sure whether it was giving him permission or just a placating gesture. So he gave her a moment to process what he had just said. He hoped she would agree to his plan. He wasn't really looking forward to taking possession of Elizabeth's body, it seemed somehow a severe violation of her privacy, but he wanted to finally be able to take real action again, to assist her in a tangible way.

"Okay," Elizabeth gave her consent. She was far from enthused by the idea of relinquishing control of her body, and she wasn't sure if it would even work, let alone if John would be able to get her past the mob in the hall. There really weren't any foreseeable benefits to avoiding the others anyway, besides avoidance of sedation and the conciliatory voices of Drs. Beckett and Heightmeyer. But there was one solid reason to agree to John's plan, and that was John himself. Elizabeth knew how much being unable to take action affected him. He needed this. He needed to do something, to feel useful again…_hell_…to feel alive again. She would do this for him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

_So, this is what being Dr. Elizabeth Weir is like…_

John mused to himself as he held her petite hands out in front of his eyes. He wiggled the delicate fingers. It was no doubt the creepiest thing he had ever experienced. Sure, he had considered possessing her body before, entertained the notion of being close to her. She was a fairly attractive woman, and he_ was_ a man after all...But he had never wanted to be _this_ close to her. This, _this_ was far too intimate.

His own ethereal form glittered as a transparent haze surrounding her arms and hands …_creepy!_ Shifting his gaze down, he ventured to check out the rest of his newly acquired body. Something obstructed his view…some things.

_Her breasts!_

John hastily looked back up. He only panicked at the impropriety for a moment before he realized that Elizabeth's consciousness was still unaware, confined to the space where she had withdrawn to in her mind through meditation. It was a revealing procedure to witness; he now knew why she could remain so calm and collected most of the time.

Deciding that there was no way she could ever find out…John considered her body again. So, this was what being a woman was like. No wonder they didn't think boobs were a big deal…they weren't as interesting from this angle. John felt confident in making this conclusion, for he considered himself somewhat of an expert, having examined many different breasts from a variety of different angles. But this was definitely a new one…

Okay, enough of gawking at his boss' feminine attributes. It was time to get down to business. He hated to think it about himself, but he had been feeling rather incomplete for the lack of ass kicking lately. What did that say about him as a person? Then again, he had been feeling rather incomplete in general, so who was to say it was just the lack of violent satisfaction that frustrated him.

John turned his attention, well, Elizabeth's attention to the barricaded door. Judging by the noise emerging from behind the fortification, the others were about to break through. Elizabeth had done a good job constructing the barricade; several hours had passed since the first grinding noises had indicated their attempts to break in had begun.

The question was…Should he wait for them to finish their work and come to him? Or should he help them destroy the barricade?

John wasn't sure how long he'd have before Elizabeth's consciousness reemerged and supplanted his control, but it appeared that he wouldn't have to wait that long for the posse to come bursting through the door anyway…

--------------------------------------------------------------

John Sheppard tried to concentrate, but he couldn't get past the sound of Elizabeth's bare feet pattering against the floor as he told her body to run down the empty corridors of Atlantis. Her heart was beating rapidly from the strenuous activity, further obscuring the noises that would forewarn him of pursuers.

He had done pretty well with Elizabeth's body. In fact, getting past the large contingent of people obstructing the corridor, and the route to their freedom had been surprisingly easy. He only had to incapacitate a couple of the military personnel to create enough confusion to slip away. They really hadn't expected the maneuver from Dr. Weir, despite the earlier discovery of the unconscious men who had been guarding her door.

So he had liberated her-and him with her-from their grasp for who knew how much longer, but at least he had been able to do something for her. It was little repayment for all she had tried to do for him. And she would no doubt be caught and locked away again by her so-called friends.

John slowed his pace down…well, the pace at which he was pushing Elizabeth's body. He had tried to treat the petite woman's body with care, unsure of her strength or breaking point. Perhaps, he had pushed her too far. It was difficult for him to sense the intricacies of her body, whether it had grown fatigued or not. It took all of John's focus just to order her muscles to what he wanted. There wasn't really time or energy for the effort required to sense how she was physically feeling.

Apparently, he hadn't done that well of a job using her other senses either.

He stopped short right in front of Dr. Rodney McKay. John blamed himself. There was no way that the scientist had improved enough to elude Major John Sheppard. He simply must not have been paying attention, distracted by worrying over the condition of Elizabeth's borrowed body.

"Rodney," John said, hearing Elizabeth's voice accompanying his own. It startled him more than he thought it would. This whole thing was far too weird, even for the Pegasus Galaxy. Being turned invisible, everyone thinking you're dead, haunting people's dreams…that wasn't entirely shocking given what he had experienced in this part of the universe. But possessing your boss' body and running around the city, evading everyone else, and speaking with her voice…now _that_ was just plain weird. And _wrong._ _Definitely wrong!_

McKay simply gave John/Elizabeth a strange look. It must have been the reassuring smile he had attempted to give the scientist, which given his ever-fading control over Elizabeth's body could have turned out like her most hate-filled glare or possible the face some second-grader would pull at another after they stole their juicebox or made a comment about the sweater their grandmother had knitted for them-just because it had goldenrod in it didn't mean that his Nana Sheppard didn't love him!

"Elizabeth, are you alright?" Rodney tentatively asked the crazed now dazed-looking woman. Upon receiving no answer he began mumbling to himself. "Of course you're not alright. You've been tearing around the city, beating people up and trashing science labs…"

John felt Elizabeth's mind as it began to reawaken from where she had withdrawn. There wasn't much more he could do for her, so he relinquished control to the reemerging consciousness. When he was assured that she was fully there and in control again, John stepped out of possessing the same space as the now fully aware woman.

"…messing around with devices you have no clue about…"

"Whoa," Elizabeth said to no one in particular, quite certain that it was one of the strangest sensations she had experienced in her life. But she didn't remember much. "What happened?"

"…claiming that Sheppard's alive and talking to you…"

"I told you that I'd get you out of there," John answered, a self-satisfied grin forming across his face. It obscured the fact that he was still freaked out about the whole experience. "And so I did."

"…and holding conversations with thin air…"

"Who's holding conversations with thin air now, Rodney?" Elizabeth asked the prattling scientist, deciding how she was going to convince him to help her…or fail that, get past him without further alerting the others.

"Wh-What?" He jumped, having forgotten about Elizabeth's presence while he rambled on to himself. The poor man really couldn't help it. It was a sort of safety mechanism, albeit not a very useful one.

"I could really use your help, Dr. McKay," Elizabeth coaxed, putting her hand out to the frightened man. She tried to act as normally as possible, hoping that it would ease the scientist's mind…or at least confuse him enough to keep him going along with her for awhile. She linked her arm through his and began to stroll along the corridor, sweeping him up in the action. "Now, Rodney. I can't do this on my own. I tried…but as you've pointed out before-_on many occasions_-I'm no scientist…"

John followed behind the pair, hoping that he was leaving enough space as to not disturb Elizabeth while she did her diplomacy thing. It was amazing to watch. He had never considered the talent she had for it, the ability it took to make others feel at ease while you attempted to sway them to your opinion. _Had she worked him over so easily in the past?_ Nah, he was too smart for that. Besides he always had put her off kilter when they had confrontations before.

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"How's it coming, Rodney?' Elizabeth asked passively from where she sat, hands folded primly in her lap. Despite the difficulty and the rawness with which her nerves burned, she was playing it cool. Being an alarmist would only upset Rodney. And while an upset Rodney often did his best work, an upset Rodney was also an afraid, irascible one, one that would consider tattling on her.

"Oh. Uh, fine," he offered from where he sat across a table from Elizabeth, looking up briefly from the computer screen in front of him. "But I really don't know what you expect me to find that could help Sheppard."

Elizabeth studied the scientist harshly for a few moments before turning her attention to John as he stood undetected over McKay's shoulder. He met her gaze and frowned.

"He's stalling, Elizabeth," John warned.

"I know," she replied, unfettered by the comment. She had known the entire time that the scientist wasn't really set on helping her figure out the device. His last comment had confirmed her suspicions; he avoided mentioning John's name to her the majority of the time, and the only circumstances in which he conceded acknowledgment of the appellative was to assert the truth of the man's demise.

"It looks like he's attempting to send a message to the others through the computers in the control room," John relayed what he could determine from the computer screen. "We should get out of here."

"Why? To Where?" she asked coldly. John didn't like the look on her face. She was going numb.

"Hmm?" Rodney asked. "Did you say something?"

"Not to _you!_" Elizabeth snapped. She took a deep breath, feeling less in control than when she had surrendered control of her body to the major. Rodney looked aghast at the outburst. She considered apologizing to him, but decided he deserved no such attention. Instead, she continued her conversation with John, who was also giving her a strange look. "Honestly, John, what would be the point? They'll catch me eventually, especially since Dr. McKay here hasn't believed a word I've said…Which, you know, is really rather disappointing. This whole ordeal is above all else a disappointment. I realize now that the faith I placed in these people was quite undeserved-

"That's not fair and you know it," John interrupted, finally able to cope with this fatalist side of Elizabeth that he'd never seen before.

"Maybe," she conceded half-heartedly. She stared off into space for awhile. Rodney seemed to be busy faking working on the computer again, having already sent his message to the others, so John paid him no heed. The scientist could probably have got up and walked out of there and he wouldn't do a thing to stop him, so enraptured was he with the bizarre melancholic Elizabeth. He couldn't take his eyes off from her. Never had he seen her like this before. It was so far removed from the passionate, strong leader he had known. She was giving up.

Distant noise alerted John to the approaching presence of the others, those that would come to take Elizabeth back, sedate her, and 'help' her recover from her mental illness. He couldn't let that happen, not like this. Her submission now would mean the breaking of her spirit. She'd question herself, her confidence, sense of self, would dissipate like vapor. She'd never be the same again.

He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let her be broken, like a prisoner of war, by her own friends. He rushed to her side, crouched down before her and attempted to catch her eyes. It would've been easier if he could've touched her, stroked her cheek, grabbed her arm, shook her violently! He ignored the overwhelming urge to do just that, knowing it was futile. Words were his only hope.

"Elizabeth," he said as gently as he possibly could. The clamor of the approaching soldiers was only getting louder. _He really needed to refresh them on stealth practices. Maybe he should have Elizabeth teach them a thing or two._

No response. They were running out of time, and he needed her to get her will back. He took a deep breath and hoped that she'd forgive him instead of returning the gesture in kind later on.

"DAMMIT, Elizabeth!" he shouted in her face. She jumped noticeably. Now he had her attention. "You _cannot_ give up like this! Are you just going to let them take you without a fight?"

"What would be the point-

"The point is never giving up, remaining adamant about what you believe! Don't let them tell you that you're anything less than the leader of Atlantis. You are Elizabeth Weir. You are the strongest person I've ever known. You do not owe them anything, especially not your surrender. _They_ owe _you!_ Don't let them take you without a fight!"

John stood up and stepped back. The look in her eyes had said enough. He had managed to rekindle the willful, passionate woman inside her. He wasn't sure if it was because of what he had said, but that wasn't the important part. She had understood what he had meant. And that's what counted.

John wasn't the most articulate man Elizabeth had ever meant, but she always seemed to manage to understand his meaning. And it was that meaning which was generally important, what was important now. He respected her, and it was respect she deserved. And if the others weren't going to show her it, then she still should have it for herself. And she would lose that if she just let them take her without protest.

She would never admit she was wrong about John Sheppard's existence. And she would not surrender too easily to the others. They would have to drag her kicking and screaming.

She would fight.

**A/N: Elizabeth has refused to give up…but will it last even when she's confined to the infirmary, and John's resoluteness wavers? Only a couple more chapters to go…**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Apologies to Anjirika, to whom the credit goes for reminding me of the possibility that John could possess people's bodies, which I used in the last chapter. I forgot to thank Anjirika for the great idea, sorry :-( **

**I know I've been a little harsh on Rodney, but I hope I also got the idea across that he really does care about Elizabeth; he just doesn't like seeing her this way. But never fear, in the end everything will be okay. :-)**

**But first, we're back to the whole horribly dramatic, depressing bit, which if done correctly should sort of mirror the original chapter that instigated this entire fic. Perhaps, this will create some unity in the piece, countering my tendency to roam through various genres?**

"Elizabeth, it's not real," Dr. Beckett pleaded with struggling distraught woman. She pulled at the restraints holding her wrists firmly to the side of the medical bed. "Please calm down."

"Carson, you need to listen to me," she argued, far beyond the point where she could conjure up any sweetness in her voice. She sounded pathetic, she knew it, but she hoped it would convey her sense of urgency, not evidence what they all thought, that she was out of her mind. "We have to help him."

"John Sheppard is dead, Dr. Weir," Beckett replied. He regretted it every time he had to tell her. It seemed like she had forgotten about his death at first, like the stress had been too much for her. Each time the truth had to be reiterated to her, her eyes turned dead and distant, she seemed so sad…so, so sad. It was heart-wrenching to watch this. Even worse was when she began to refuse to remember the truth, and then she became violent. This wasn't normal Elizabeth. It all had to be linked to that inexplicable coma, which he hadn't gotten any further in understanding.

"NO!" she shouted, frustration now completely overwhelming her. Then realizing that violent outbursts wouldn't help her convince the others of her sanity, she tried to compose herself.

"You all have respected my decisions in the past," she addressed the concerned audience gathered around her bedside, which included Teyla, Lt. Ford, Rodney, and of course, Dr. Beckett and a member of the nursing staff. Elizabeth, however, focused on another figure, his presence unbeknownst to the others. Satisfied of his confidence in her she continued her last ditch attempt at using diplomacy. "Is it a stretch for me to assume that you all have trusted in my capabilities as a leader, my way of perceiving and evaluating situations?"

They all shamefully nodded their heads. They did care about her, she could tell by their pained expressions. This was hurting them as much as it was frustrating her. The potency of the anger she had been feeling towards them the past few days, since she had resisted them and they sedated her and strapped her to an infirmary bed, dissipated slightly.

"Good," she continued, unwilling to let them stray from the path she was guiding them down. "Then, please, I am asking you, based on the trust you have placed in me, trust I would like to believe that I have earned, please listen to me _very_ carefully."

It was working. They were all entranced by her, eyes locked upon her, eager to hear what she said next. She tried to deny the thought that it was really only because this was the sanest she had sounded in over a week.

"This is very important," she was leading them. She had to be sure that they were willing to follow, that they wouldn't shut her out as soon as they saw where this was headed. They appeared to be intrigued enough to continue with her. How many of them would ignore what she said next completely? Should she even try? Maybe she should change her strategy. If they thought she was better, maybe they'd let her go and she could help John herself. No, she couldn't do that. John had been right. She deserved at least to preserve her own self-respect. She had to stick to her story. If they witnessed her conviction, maybe they'd consider it as a possibility, even a slight possibility of being the truth. And if she even got one of them to contemplate it for second, it'd be worth it all. She had to press forward, be strong, fortify herself against the looks of pity and disbelief, but never stop trying.

"John Sheppard is not dead."

She scanned her audience's faces as quickly as possible, trying to catch each individual reaction. Dr. Beckett sighed, looking as sad as ever. She couldn't blame him. He had heard the most of her 'rantings,' seen her at her most desperate crying herself to sleep, and born the worst of her temper since she'd been confined to the infirmary. Lt. Ford simply looked away, most likely unable to cope with seeing a grown woman, someone he had come to respect, completely lose her sense of self. She couldn't blame him either. Teyla looked at her sympathetically, but no belief could be found in her face no matter how hard she tried. At least, there was no pity there either. The Athosian respected her, not that the others didn't, but she understood the need a leader had for confidence in a compromising situation such as Elizabeth's. Disbelief was okay, but pity was unnerving, insulting.

Rodney, however, she allowed herself to hate. It was so easy. He was arrogant all of the time, and thus lent a propensity in others to despise him. He also had been the one to tattle on Elizabeth, multiple times in fact. She had gone to him for help, because he was the only one that could. She'd thought that maybe he would be able for once to just listen to her, do something for somebody else without over-thinking it. But all that wasn't why she seethed at him now, why he had become the focus of all her frustrations and rage. He was the _only_ one who could really help John. She needed him to believe her, and he was the farthest one from it. She wanted to jump him and strangle his prideful snooty neck until he conceded that she was right!

Instead she lay back on her bed, letting a sigh lose that seemed to use up every ounce of breath in her body. She looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to fight back the tears, tears of rage and despair.

"Elizabeth."

She turned to her right to face the person who pulled her from her hell. The only one who believed her amongst all those she counted friends. He was fast becoming the only one who mattered to her as well. "John, I tried. Oh God, how I've tried. I'm sorry. I just can't make them believe me. I've fail-"

"Shh!" he silenced her. "You've done the best you can. Thank you. I should have never put this on you, Elizabeth."

He looked sad, something she had rarely seen before his "death" but something that she had recently become quite familiar with. It was still something that made her feel uncomfortable, and it definitely wasn't anything she wanted to see in him.

"If I'd've known it would lead to this…" he continued with his thoughts. He seemed to come to a decision at the same time, a determined look joining the sad one upon his face. "You don't deserve this, Elizabeth. Maybe I do, though. Maybe I did die…and this _is_ the afterlife, my _afterlife_. God knows I've done things I'm not proud of, things that I probably deserve punishment for…and this is it."

"No, John," Elizabeth said gently. She no longer fought the tears that freely rolled down her cheeks red with exhaustion. "You can't think that's true. No. You know it's not true. You've saved countless lives, the lives of everyone living here in Atlantis and many others. And despite how many times you've endangered yourself by doing something foolish, like disobeying me…" He chuckled, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it. "…you're a good man, John. And you don't deserve this."

The others watched in shocked awe as Dr. Weir conversed with apparently thin air, pouring her heart out, emotion flashing in her eyes. Only Dr. Beckett succeeded in looking away from the tragic scene. He felt that he at least owed it to the woman, their once strong and respected leader, to explain to the others, to try and protect her from their stares, and to protect them from seeing such a woman breakdown.

"She gets like this sometimes," Dr. Beckett explained to the others. "She sees him, talks with him. She doesn't realize he's not real. She doesn't listen to anyone else. It's best to leave her alone in this sta-"

"Shut up, Carson!" Elizabeth shouted. It was the most uncontrolled and frightening sound any of them had ever heard her utter. They had witnessed her scold others harshly, if not themselves before. She could be quite formidable. But this was beyond a leader chewing someone out for doing something stupid and/or dangerous. This was a woman at the end of her rope. This was a cry of rage. And it succeeded in its goal. The entire infirmary turned silent, silent with fear. But Elizabeth wasn't done yet. "Just SHUTUP!! I can't BELIEVE THIS! I CAN"T BELIEVE _YOU!!_ You are horrible, selfish people! I thought I had _earned_ your trust, your respect, but apparently all I've done for you, given up for you and you couldn't even _pretend_ to believe me, humor me for a second?"

The group that had originally been surrounding her bedside, those she had previously considered friends, stared at the floor and each other in shame and guilt. Even Teyla, always attentive to who was speaking, had to look away. But Weir still wasn't done.

"And what about John? He was _your _friend, _YOUR FRIEND! _Not to mention that you all owe him your lives, several times over! And you couldn't even listen to me, try to help him in the off chance that maybe, just maybe, I was telling the truth. And now he's giving up! John Sheppard, giving up! Look what you've forced him into!"

"Goodbye, Elizabeth."

It was soft, and deeply sad, and would've been barely audible amongst her shouting, if it hadn't been whispered directly into her ear by that voice, _his _voice. She looked around, but there was no sign of him. She strained to see every corner of the infirmary, but her restraints limited her movement. She twisted around desperately, but she knew the truth, even without being able to tear the infirmary apart searching for him. He was gone.

"NO!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her vocal chords burned and her lungs ached, but it felt good in a horrible way; the release it allowed her, the vaguest hint of relief resultant from the outburst. Unfortunately, the utter despair, hopelessness, frustration and anger accompanied it. She cried tears that she should no longer be able to cry, and they burned her skin raw. And the scream echoed through Atlantis, and there was not a soul there who hadn't heard it.

And everyone stopped in their tracks when it reached their ears, forgetting their current tasks. Almost everyone, that is. The one she had cried for, for so long, the one she had screamed for, fought for, _he_, _he _continued to walk determinedly away from the infirmary, away from _her_…for what he knew had to be _forever_.

**A/N: And on that note…one more chapter left…at least it should only be one more…**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I don't Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's Note: Wow! You guys give me such little credit. Do you really think I could've let this story end like that and lived with myself? Anyway…it ended up much longer than I intended, but I wanted to finish it off all in one post, so enjoy…?**

After spending what felt like an eternity wallowing in self pity and despair, Elizabeth had finally snapped out of it. She didn't know how long the feeling of numbness would last, but her friends seemed to think that she was on the road to recovery. She, however, still believed that she had never been delusional, but she kept the notion to herself. There was no point in voicing her opinion when it would only serve to get her into serious trouble again.

As time passed, though, even that part of her that was adamant about John's existence faltered. Since he left her that day in the infirmary, arguably the lowest point she had ever been at in her entire life, she hadn't seen nor heard a word from him. She hadn't even dreamed about him. For Elizabeth, that could only mean two things; he was still alive but was unwilling to put her through such an ordeal again for his own benefit; or her mind had made the whole thing up and she had just become lucid again.

She desperately wanted to believe the former, but necessity dictated she embrace the latter. And since John hadn't made an appearance for over a week, it was easier to act like she had been suffering a mental break from which she was currently recovering. Not to mention that was precisely what everyone else was willing to believe. And placating their inability to confront the 'truth' she had attempted to bring to their attention allowed Elizabeth the ability to regain some of her autonomy.

There were no longer guards outside her door. She was allowed to read reports detailing what was happening in Atlantis, although they weren't yet willing to hand command back over to her. Kate seemed confident that she had regained some control, that she was on her way to recovering from what they termed a 'mental breakdown.' At least, they hadn't blamed her for the lapse in sanity. In fact, Elizabeth could tell that they all felt guilty for it, for the pressure they had placed unwittingly upon her without giving it a second thought. Maybe she could at least look forward to a little more understanding in the future if not a little more help with all the work she does for them, for Atlantis.

Elizabeth didn't really want that, though. She loved leading her brilliant expedition, and as such loathed being restricted in the way she currently was. But could she blame them? The way she acted…She had to regain their trust. And that upset her more than just a little, so she tried not to think about it, about how she now had to earn their trust again, when they showed her none, nor respect, and she had trusted them explicitly in approaching them with the problem of assisting John.

Elizabeth shook her head. She couldn't think those thoughts; they would only serve to get her into trouble. Instead, she concentrated on the report on the computer screen in front of her. Dr. McKay was going to run some sort of maintenance on the Lantean DHD. Apparently, unlike Earth's gate, whose memory crystals were wiped every time a new wormhole connected, the Lantean DHD had a backup system that recorded all incoming data. This backup memory could only store so much information and had to be purged every so often.

A thought dawned on Elizabeth and she nearly threw the laptop to the floor as she jumped off the bed to her feet. There was a way! There was actually a way! _Wait a minute!_ Elizabeth cursed. She was getting ahead of herself. Even if the DHD did store data for months at a time, who was to say that McKay hadn't purged the memory before?

Picking up the computer, Elizabeth took a few deep breaths in an attempt to slow the rapid beating of her heart before returning her attention to the report. She didn't see it written anywhere whether Rodney had performed the procedure previously, or if he intended to download the data or preserve it anyway.

Again Elizabeth found herself struggling to prevent the computer from crashing to the floor as she hastily rose to her feet and made for the door. She had to find Rodney and fast, before he carried out the maintenance procedure and the data she needed to prove John's existence was lost…

---------------------------------------------------

"Dr. McKay," Elizabeth greeted the preoccupied scientist as she entered the control room.

"Dr. Weir," he responded, looking up from the work before him and smiling. Normally he would've snapped at someone for interrupting him in the middle of such a delicate procedure. It was all he could do to keep the guts of the Lantean system straight. A single moment of distraction would lead to hours of work trying to figure out the system again. The ancients were not especially good at differentially designating the elements within any given mechanism. But seeing Elizabeth look so much better, more like her 'normal' self made him give her a warm welcome and a smile. "You're looking well."

"Thank you, Rodney," she replied genially. This was a very delicate procedure she was about to perform, convincing Rodney to consider her idea without raising any alarms that would question her mental well-being. "I feel well."

When she simply stood there looking at him, Rodney became slightly uneasy. "Oh, uh…Is there something I can do for you?"

"As a matter of fact…" Elizabeth began, trying to remain light, not to let on that this would eventually lead back to the problematic issue of John Sheppard's existence. "I was reading the preliminary report you submitted about purging the DHD's backup memory-Is that what you're working on now?"

"Why, yes actually."

_Dammit._ Was it too late to get what she was after?

"So…what can I help you with?"

"If it's not too much trouble, Rodney, could you please answer a couple of questions I have about the system and this procedure?" Elizabeth asked with an obsequious and pleasing voice in an attempt to stay on the mercurial scientist's good side.

"Actually, Elizabeth, it's a very delicate process and I…" he began to object but let himself trail off. He somehow felt that he owed her big time for his horrid treatment of her through her whole psychological ordeal. It wasn't really his fault that she…well, _went crazy_, but he hated seeing her like that. And being cruel to her now wouldn't probably help her slowly healing, recently fractured mental faculties. "What would you like to know?"

"What kind of data does the system record?"

Elizabeth watched as McKay stared off into space for a few moments with his hand on his chin and his other arm across his chest bracing his elbow, eventually becoming frustrated over his unresponsiveness. She checked the urge to snap at the rude gesture, however.

"Rodney?" She voiced questioningly.

"Uh-sorry," he responded, finally meeting her eyes again. "I was trying to think of a way to put it in simple terms."

"I appreciate the effort, but any explanation would do nicely," Elizabeth said trying not to grind her teeth in frustration. She may or may not have lost her mind over the past few weeks, but she definitely needed time and practice to recover her diplomatic skills and patience.

"I think I've got it," Rodney supplied, smiling to combat the faint aggression he perceived emanating from Elizabeth. "Basically, it serves exactly as you said, a backup system for 'gate travel. Back in the Milkyway galaxy, or any other 'gate and DHD system in Pegasus, data from incoming wormholes is stored in a sort of buffer only until the object is rematerialized or another wormhole is connected. However, the Lantean DHD, which is unlike any other we've encountered in either galaxy, has a separate, rather redundant, system that records data from incoming wormholes and stores them on a slightly more permanent basis. However, as I discovered when I was studying the DHD in more detail, the system is rather small for handling such a large amount of data and needs to be regularly purged-which I was about to do right before you arrived."

Elizabeth blinked a couple of times as the rapidly-uttered explanation sank in. She had tried to follow it, she was desperate to understand, but will alone wasn't enough to allow one to keep up with an explanation offered Rodney McKay style. Finally able to digest it, she realized she still had a couple of questions, which would hopefully ease the way for her idea.

"So let me get this straight," she tried to get her question out as quickly as possible, knowing that although Rodney had tolerated her, even been nice to her thus far, he couldn't remain that way for long when there was work of a scientific, alien technological nature to be done. "The stargate has a buffer that stores the data that is used to rematerialize the 'gate travelers. Is what the backup system stores, the same data?"

"No," Rodney replied, impressed by her grasp of the tech, especially considering her mental condition. Of course, just because she went crazy for a little bit didn't mean she was stupid. "The data buffered within the gate system itself is the exact pattern, all of the information needed to rematerialize an entire object, or human being. The data stored in the backup system is a-_simplified_ version."

"And this data can be differentiated? I mean, you can tell the objects apart, which object made which trip through the gate?"

"Y-es," Rodney answered, curiosity beginning to grow within him. "Each object would have a unique signature."

"Is the data sorted by trip?"

"Yes," he responded again, really beginning to wonder where she was going with this. She obviously had given it quite a bit of thought and approached him with a specific agenda. "Elizabeth, where are you going with this?"

"Okay," she said, finally ready to get to the point. "If I wanted to see who came through the 'gate on a specific day at a specific time, could you find that information for me?"

"Yes," Rodney conceded. "But without reference, we'd have no way of knowing who the signatures represented."

"Hmm…" That was a problem. But "What if we were to compare them to signatures from a date where we know who came through the wormhole?"

"But, why, Elizabeth?" Rodney asked. "You could simply check our own logs to see who came through the 'gate at a certain time."

"Not if our logs never recorded their presence," Elizabeth countered. McKay gave her a strange, bewildered look. She raised her eyebrows at him. Surely he must know where she was headed with this by now.

"Oh, no…" he said finally realizing her intent. "Oh, no, Elizabeth. No, no, no…"

"Rodney, listen to me," she coaxed the apprehensive scientist. This time, she was able to remain calm, sound sweet and smooth. Panic seemed to be taking him over, and he looked desperately around for help, like a nurse with a sedative might pop up and incapacitate Elizabeth for him. "Look at me."

Rodney looked at the woman standing before him. She appeared much healthier than the last time he had seen her, stuck in a bed in the infirmary, a distressed and tortured figure. She also seemed much more confident and level-headed than she had for weeks. Those were reasons to listen to her, but they were also reasons to get help as soon as possible. He didn't want to see her plummet back into the state she had been in but a week ago. On the other hand, he owed her. There were no logical reasons for such guilt, but he knew it, felt it to be true. The last time she had gone to him for help, he had pretended to listen, but turned her in to the others. He had watched as they came for her, in horror and shock as she fought them desperately, crying out for someone to listen to her, believe her, for someone, anyone to care. And he had simply turned a deaf ear to her. For that, he owed her more than he could ever repay.

"Okay," he said quietly, startling Elizabeth. She had been prepared for negotiations, a fight, or to be dragged off by medical staff again. She had really never expected his compliance. "What are you thinking?"

"Thank you, Rodney." She gave him a big sincere smile. "If we compare the data from the returning MXG-241 mission to an earlier mission consisting of Major Sheppard's team we should be able to identify whether his signature is there."

"That probably won't do it," Rodney critiqued, as he moved to gather up a laptop and some other equipment. "We'll need to use more baseline data than that." He glanced at her. "But it's a start."

Elizabeth watched as he played simultaneously with the Lantean technology and their own equipment. It was like watching a balancing act, a juggler sitting on a really tall unicycle throwing glasses through the air and catching them. She giggled at the thought of Rodney attempting such an endeavor. He turned and glared at her, but it was his usual friendly McKay glare.

"I have to download all of the data first, and I still need to purge the system," he said. When Elizabeth failed to pick up the hint and leave, he added "So it's going to be a while before I process the information you requested."

Elizabeth stood there on purpose to annoy him for old time's sake.

"Which would be easier if you weren't staring over my shoulder!" he finally snapped at her. She simply smiled and turned to leave the control room. As she walked away, she could here the scientist mumble under his breath.

"If Carson finds out about this, I'm a dead man." Then in a mock Scottish accent, "_What were you thinking, lad? Encouraging a crazy woman like that?_"

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Elizabeth took a deep breath after Grodin gave her a slight nod, signaling that the city-wide com system was active. She was really nervous for some reason, more excitement than anything else at finally achieving some success. The others now believed her. They couldn't deny the evidence Rodney had produced; John's signature had been right there alongside the others when they had returned from the world where he had supposedly met his demise. And now that they believed her, it was time to recall him back from the land of the dead.

"John?" Elizabeth questioningly, hopefully, began her plea for his return. "I know you're out there. I know you can hear me. Everything is fine now. The others know you're alive. Dr. McKay is confident he can figure out the device and bring you back to normal again."

She paused and stared at McKay, attempting to ascertain whether or not he was being pompous in his reassurances, or if he could actually do what he promised he could. He stood confidently under her appraising stare, but he always looked confident…except for when he was afraid. Still, there was little other option.

"If you decide that you want to rejoin the living…" she continued. She hoped that John would believe her. She knew he left to spare her anymore problems, pain, and he'd stick to that decision. He was a stubborn man when he felt he was protecting someone. But surely he'd realize that the others would not allow her access to the Lantean systems unless she had convinced them. "…you'll find us in Rodney's lab, but not the one we…uh…_rearranged._"

And with a nod of her head to Grodin, the communiqué was terminated. She looked around at the others, Teyla, Ford, Drs. Heightmeyer and Beckett, who still wore looks of shock upon their faces from the revelation of the briefing they had just completed. Elizabeth had been right all along and they had treated her reprehensively. None could make eye contact with their compassionate and horribly wronged leader, except for Rodney who felt that he deserved some of the glory for proving Elizabeth right. He returned the large smile that had been lighting Elizabeth's face for several hours, since Rodney first showed her the results of his analysis.

"Okay, people," Elizabeth announced to everyone present. It was strange how naturally she snapped back into her role of authority, especially when those under her former command had lost so much faith in her. "I understand that it will take Dr. McKay several hours to reconfigure the device."

"Yes. Apparently, it works kind of like a switch and the polarity has to be reversed-"

"Thank you, Rodney," Elizabeth interrupted. "I don't think we need the details. We trust that you know what you're doing. So if you want to welcome John back in person, meet us down in the lab in about…"

She looked to McKay, unsure of the exact time required to carry out the modifications needed.

"Two hours," he suggested uncertainly. "Give or take."

With a final nod to the others, Elizabeth grabbed Rodney's arm and urged him on his way to the lab. She was far too ecstatic to maintain her normal patience and proper manners. Soon, John would be back with them! And it was all she could do to keep from jumping up and down like an excitable small child.

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"I think that should about do it," Dr. McKay announced to the room, turning his attention away from the alien device buried amongst piles of their own diagnostic equipment. "All we need is Major Sheppard."

"He's already here, Rodney," Elizabeth informed the scientist with a large smile. She glanced over to where the specter stood, and beamed wildly at him. He returned the sentiment. He was so proud of her, impressed beyond anything that she was finally able to prove the truth of his predicament to the others, one which thanks to her would soon come to an end. And although still slightly skeptical after all the time he had spent in his current state, John allowed himself to become enthused over the prospect of returning to normal.

"Are you ready?" Elizabeth asked him.

"Are you kidding me?" he answered. "I've been ready for this since we first came back through the 'gate and bozo over there told everyone I was dead!"

"He says he's ready," she relayed to the others, editing his animated, sarcastic response.

"Okay," Rodney announced that he was prepared to initialize the device. "You may want to cover your eyes. A blinding flash of light seems to be a requisite of the ancients when building pointless devices that only seem to cause us trouble."

Elizabeth watched, fighting the urge to laugh, as Rodney squinted with one eye shut and edged his way cautiously to the device with one hand tentatively stretched out before him. She closed her eyes tightly when she was sure that he was finally going to turn the damn onerous machine on. Like when she had played with the device before, desperate to aide the major, she could sense the supernova quality flash even through her eyelids. It was a solid, invariable blanket of light, followed by swirls of colors that danced across her eyelids as an aftereffect of the cornea-scorching blaze. Assured that the bizarre shapes and colors performing a spectacularly surreal display in her mind meant that the blinding light had dissipated, she opened her eyes.

And there he stood before her just as he has been before McKay activated the device. _Did he look a little more solid?_ There was only one way to be certain. She reached out a hand to the man she had fought so hard for, longed to touch again, not realizing that she was holding her breath, and let out a tremendous sigh at the contact it made with his arm. He, too seemed shocked at the revelation, and then returned her exuberant smile.

Within seconds of the touch that confirmed his real presence on their plane of existence, Elizabeth had pulled him into a tight embrace. She was breathing heavily over the excitement and her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, but she couldn't seem to stem the overwhelming emotions she felt at having John Sheppard back among them. He was real! In all honesty, she had had her doubts even though her 'visions' of him had been strikingly accurate portrayals of his behavior and personality. But feeling his solid form, that he was tangible flesh and blood, negated all the fears she had previously held deep down. He was real and alive! She could touch him, she could feel the warmth of his living body, she could smell his unique scent, a mixture of testosterone, sweat and hair gel. She reveled in him, not ever wanting to let him go, for fear that he would disappear just as quickly and achingly as she had lost him before.

John Sheppard couldn't believe that it had finally worked, that the moment he had prayed for, for so long, had finally arrived. He was him again, completely him. He once again resided in the world of his people, his friends. When Elizabeth's delicate hand had made contact with his arm, John truly thought he wasn't going to be able to hold it together. The relief he felt was an emotion intense beyond anything else he had ever experienced. Then she had wrapped her arms around him, and he instinctually wrapped his own around her petite form. It felt so good to hold her, to finally experience tactile contact with another human being again. He had only been feeling have alive all those months, less when he had decided to leave them all alone and wander the city solitarily. Part of him informed him that it was inappropriate to cling to Elizabeth in such a manner, but most of him didn't care, desperate for the connection with the real world, actual substance. She was warm and solid and smelled so good; he had missed her clean, pure scent. He breathed her in deeply, then realized that he was rocking her gently back and forth in his embrace, an unconscious attempt at slowing the rapid beating of her heart, which he could feel through her chest pressed snugly against his own. And he never wanted to let her go; admittedly he was afraid to release her that he would never be able to touch her again, that he'd fade back into the semi-existence she had pulled him from.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered in his ear, fighting back the tears of joy.

"It's all thanks to you, Elizabeth," he answered, whispering quietly back into her ear. "Thank you."

Finally realizing that the others gathered in the science lab were simply standing around staring at them in shocked awe, Elizabeth conceded to breaking off the embrace. She took a few seconds to compose herself before turning to face Rodney, Teyla, Ford, Drs. Beckett and Heightmeyer, as well as Zelenka and a few other scientists.

"Good to have you back, John," she said formally. Then she addressed the others who she couldn't tell were more taken aback by John's sudden reappearance or her greeting of him. "Are you going to welcome the major back or just stand there staring?"

"Oh uh, yeah," Rodney was the first to speak up. "Welcome back, Sheppard."

The scientist stuck out his hand and John accepted it. Then, to McKay's surprise, he pulled him into a man-hug, giving him a pat on the back which the scientist awkwardly returned, before releasing him again.

"Thanks, Rodney," he told his friend with a grin. "It's good to be back."

"It is good to see you alive and well, major," Teyla greeted her friend, before taking his arms and bowing slightly. John followed her lead, touching foreheads with the woman in the traditional Athosian gesture. She, too, gave him a wide smile although she was obviously disconcerted by the whole event of his return from the 'dead.'

"I'm glad we have you back here with us, sir," Ford greeted his former commanding officer. He really liked the man and welcomed the idea of serving under him again. Lord knew they could all use his help surviving in the messed-up galaxy.

"What? Were you getting sick of leading missions yourself?" John poked fun at the younger military man.

"Frankly, sir," Ford countered. "I was sick of going on missions with Sgt. Bates."

John gave him a sympathetic grimace before he found himself surrounded by the others gathered in the room, greeting him and welcoming him back. The mass seemed to keep growing as people throughout the city learned of his miraculous return from the dead, and had to see it for themselves. He looked around, but found he had lost track of Elizabeth. There was so much he wanted to say to her, thank her for.

Eventually, Dr. Beckett had to break up the crowd, informing them that the major needed a medical checkup and some rest. John grudgingly agreed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Elizabeth examined the goods laid out on the table before her. It was a fantastic spread, the best she had seen since leaving Earth. She couldn't decide which food to try next. She looked to her dining companion for a recommendation. He was busy scarfing down what was some sort of fowl native to the mainland that the Athosians seemed particularly adept at hunting. She watched him as he finished off another bite then licked his fingers. She laughed. It got his attention and he quickly removed the thumb from his mouth.

"A little hungry, John?" she questioned the now self-conscious man.

"You have no idea how good this tastes to someone who hasn't eaten a thing in months," he supplied.

"Well, it's pretty delicious no matter how you approach it," she returned. "It was nice of everyone to do this for you. And _thank you_ for sharing the bounty."

"A lot of this was for you, Elizabeth," he stated. She smiled, knowing it was true. They had called her down to the mess, sat her across from John, who had already been eagerly attacking a turkey sandwich, and brought them dish after dish, placing the foodstuffs on the table until it was completely obscured. It had been their people's way of welcoming John back, and an attempt to make amends to Elizabeth for how detestably they had treated her. She had been surprised by the gesture, and appreciated it immensely, but felt guilty as well. She had already forgiven them all, having felt an almost holistic emotional healing upon knowing John was fine again. The fact that they still felt they owed her something made her uncomfortable.

Something blue caught her eye, and as she shifted slightly in her chair to get a better look, she found herself delighted at the realization. There was an entire tray full of Jell-o sitting just out of reach! She had thought their supply of the sugary gelatinous treat had run out months ago…but apparently someone had simply been hording it. _If she had known about this earlier…_ She loved the stuff and didn't know why. When you thought about it, Jell-o was the farthest thing from 'food' you could possible get. She remembered when they had first introduced Teyla to the treat. The look on her face had said it all as she scrutinized the dessert; _this is edible?_ She hadn't looked convinced when she actually tried eating the bite of disconcertingly wobbly food either.

Elizabeth leaned out of her chair slightly in order to snag a piece of her long-pined for treat. It dawned on her as she reached for it, that the Jell-o had been shaped to spell out the words 'Welcome Back Major Sheppard.' _How creative!_ Elizabeth mused to herself as she targeted a specific piece. It attempted to elude her grasp, wobbling to and fro, but failed. She wondered how the person who had made it cut it into letters. She was pretty certain they hadn't brought cookie cutters with them. Her team was really very resourceful…so perhaps she didn't want to know what kind of implement they used to cut the gelatin.

She tilted her head back and let the Jell-o shape slide into her mouth before closing it quickly, severing the piece in half and letting the sugary gel gush around in her mouth, squishing it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. She caught John giving her a strange look as she savored the sweet taste and soothing feeling on her tongue.

"What?" she asked defensively. He continued to give her the bizarre look.

"That. Was. Mine." He said solemnly after a few moments. Despite his serious tone, she could tell that he was trying to tease her.

"Oh really?" she asked innocently before tossing the other half of the piece in her mouth. She decided to forego politeness and didn't bother swallowing it, instead keeping it in her mouth to tease him with it. "I thought the food was for _both_ of us…" she glanced over to the tray of Jell-o, making sure to lead his eye there as well. "…Major Heppard."

She swallowed the bite and smiled at him. He tried to maintain the faux angered and hurt look, but failed, returning her smile with his own facetious, lopsided grin. Giving up on razzing her, he picked up an earthenware jug that some of the Athosians had brought them.

"Thirsty?" he asked Elizabeth, proffering the drink. She nodded her head and held her cup out for him to fill. She watched as a dark purple liquid flowed from the decanter. She could smell the alcohol from where she sat as it sloshed into her glass. He then proceeded to fill his own cup with the drink. "Mainland. Early twenty-first century. I think you'll find it to be a playful brew with more than a hint of alien fruit giving it an earthy aftertaste."

The corners of her mouth twitched but Elizabeth fought the urge to laugh. She really had to get a handle on her emotions. Being happy was one thing. Trying to return things to normal while constantly flirting with your military commander was another. But business could wait…right now she was going to enjoy herself. She took a sip of the 'wine,' tentatively at first, but realizing its sweet, rather sugary nature, deepened the draught until she had finished the entire glass. She set it back down on the table and wiped her mouth before the residue could stain her lips.

John raised his eyebrows at her, shocked by the display he had just seen. He had never considered Elizabeth Weir the alcoholic beverage type. He made a mental not to challenge her to a drinking contest. She was probably one of those girls in college that guys always tried to get drunk, but they ended up passed out in their own vomit and she was up early the next morning ready to take her exam. _But should he really be surprised_? Elizabeth had proven to be full of surprises. He'd always just think he had her figured out when she'd impress him with some new hidden talent or insight, or a display of compassion and understanding beyond what he thought anyone capable of…But she _was capable_. If he had learned anything from his experience over the past few months, it was that Elizabeth could do anything, more than that. She was willing to do anything to help out a friend. And it was quite a unique thing.

John had known a lot of people in his life, a good number of which he'd call friends. Many of them had been the type that would be willing to die for a friend, for him. And he would've been willing to do the same. But only a few, if any, would've been willing to make the sacrifice Elizabeth was prepared to make for him. She wasn't only ready to die for him; she was willing to go on living deprived of everything that defined who she was. She was going to fight for him despite the fact that she would lose everything, her title, her respect, her friends, her dignity. And that was why he had made his decision to leave. He didn't deserve such a sacrifice from such a woman as Elizabeth. He couldn't be the cause of her downfall. He loved her too much.

"Could I have some of that chicken-like stuff?" Elizabeth asked, interrupting his train of thought.

"Sure," he said handing her the dish. He studied her features as she served herself. He had been under so much stress lately, then overwhelmed with relief that he had forgotten how beautiful she was. He allowed himself to covet her brown curls, her big eyes and her slender graceful figure, if only for a moment.

Elizabeth pretended not to notice him watching her. No good could come from it, especially if they wanted things to return to how they once were. She had missed him terribly, and blamed that for her desire to constantly be at his side. She excused his similar behavior for the same reason. He had been deprived of real human contact for so long, it was no wonder he was flirting with her the way he had been since they had brought him back. And she couldn't blame him. He had almost faced…_who knew how long_…it could've been an eternity in that state for all they knew how long he'd live that way, an eternity alone wandering the empty corridors of the city. The thought of him suffering such a fate hurt her deep inside, to her very core. The idea that he had been willing to do that, just to stop causing her trouble, to ease her pain… John Sheppard was the noblest human being she had ever met, and having met him, known him, befriended him, she knew she could never live in a world without him. That was why she had been so upset when she had thought he was dead. She never wanted to let him go. She loved him too much.

Both realizing that their thoughts had wandered somewhere uncertain, to a future conflict of interest that neither particularly wanted to consider at the moment, they brushed the ponderings aside. Instead they continued their meal, talking and laughing, or sitting in comfortable silence, enjoying one another's company while they could, not thinking about when the time would come that they'd once again be apart from one another…

THE END

**A/N: Well, I hope that was satisfactory…I was debating the entire time whether or not to make it more shippy, less shippy or not shippy at all. You can take it how you want, including what they did after, whether it was return to normal or develop their feelings…**

**Thank you to all of those who gave me feedback. I greatly appreciated it and found it very helpful!**


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